


i know your call (despite my faults)

by grimmyneutron



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Friends to Lovers, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Going to Hell, Rating May Change, Sexual Tension, Werewolf AU, because of potential smut, kinda slow burn, like you needed another one, potential smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2018-11-10 11:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 57,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmyneutron/pseuds/grimmyneutron
Summary: "Why did you run from me?" He asked, his head cocked to the side like a puppy."Why did you chase me?" She countered."What is a man…." He paused and flashed a sardonic smile, "…. or a wolf, supposed to do but give chase when presented with someone, something, like you?"-Another werewolf AU. Clarke doesn't know exactly what she is, but she knows she's never met anyone else like her. That is, until Bellamy Blake walks into her life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I know, another werewolf AU. But I could not get this idea out of my head so here it is. Read at your own risk because this is super unedited and will be a multi-chaptered fic. 
> 
> Comments are always welcomed and appreciated to further fuel my insanity. Thank u

**_Clarke_ **

 

Clarke could  _feel_ the change in season just as much as she could see it. And it wasn't simply the change in temperature she could feel. Life in the forest was teeming and buzzing under the last thin blanket of snow, ready to burst at the first sign of sunlight. The trees that had been bare for months were budding light-green leaves, gracing the barren landscape with color once again. Spring was almost here.

Her skin itched with anticipation as she watched the clock move on the wall of her father's office. She'd been cooped up at work for over a month now working on two big projects, and it was Friday, which meant that for two whole days she was _free._ Free to _run,_ and her heart picked up its pace just at the thought.  _Freedom._ She craved the feeling she hadn't had in weeks: the muscles in her body stretching and working to their limit, the instinct that took over as she raced through the trees, the sights and sounds and smells that became so much  _clearer._ She glanced back at the clock, and saw the minute hand had only moved a centimeter. She was going to die in here.

Her father's architecture firm was a remodeled log cabin in town, the interior designed completely in her father's typical style: sleek, modern, elegant. All glass doors and wood finishes. It was not Clarke's taste. She preferred rustic styles, open-air and natural lighting. The fluorescent lighting in the firm made her feel like she was in prison. Any other day, she loved being at work. She had always loved to draw from a young age, and joining her father's firm after getting an architectural degree felt like the right step. Designing spaces, putting people's personalities and feelings into a room or an entire home or building; she loved it.

But not today. Today, this firm was a jail cell, holding her inside when she could be out running. Hunting. 

"Clarke." Her father's distracted voice pulled her away from the window she stared out, longing to be in the forest. She looked up at him as though she hadn't smelled him coming from down the hall, a habit she'd practiced for years. Rarely did anyone sneak up on her. 

"Yes, father?"

He didn't answer immediately, and she waited patiently while he gave a final once-over of blueprints in his hands before he rolled them up and handed them to her. 

He glanced at the cardboard tube and then the clock before turning back to her. "This needs to be at Tim's office by five o' clock."

"Yes, sir." She paused after taking the plans from him, trying not to seem eager as she took in her father's coat and briefcase. He was leaving for the day, which meant as soon as he was gone, Clarke would be as well.

Her father smiled gently. "I'm heading out for the evening. Lock the door on your way out, please."

Before heading down the hallway to the front door, he asked her sternly, "You'll be over to see your mother tomorrow?"

"Yes, I'm bringing lunch."

"No dogs? You know how your mother gets."

She huffed. "They'll stay at home. Night, Dad."

He nodded in approval before turning back down the hall.

Clarke made it to the Collins Construction in record time to drop off her father's blueprints. Tim's son, Finn, beamed at her when she entered the small office on the site.

"Clarke," He said, smiling wide. "How are you?"

She tried to return his smile with a polite one of her own, but she was sure it looked insincere. She didn't have  _time_ to make small talk. "I'm good, Finn. Here are the plans for the Reynolds property. Tell your father I say hello."

As soon as she placed the plans in Finn's hands, she didn't hear a word he said as he tried to keep the conversation going. Finn was nice enough, and he had asked her out several times in the years their fathers had worked together. Clarke liked him, so much so that at one point she had actually seen their friendship growing into something deeper. But he would never be able to know or understand her true self. What she truly was. So they remained friends and nothing more.

Outside the little office, Clarke considered just shifting and running home directly from there, but her logical side forced her into the car for the drive home. She was skilled at her double life, and her spring fever would lift soon.

The place she had called home as a child was now her adult home. Her parents had moved closer to town when she'd started school, but they kept the small cabin as a summer home. It was just about 15 miles outside of town, and sat on a good 30 acres of land. When Clarke graduated from college the past winter, she'd asked to move into the cabin, tentatively. Her father, smiling that secret smile, had surprisingly agreed, despite her mother protesting, wanting her baby  _home._ _Not in some cabin in the woods._

But now, as she pulled down the long gravel drive of her cabin in the woods, she smiled. This place was  _hers,_ and here, she was free.

Leo, Zula and Samson met her at the middle of the driveway with wagging tails. Apparently, her adopted pack had a little spring fever as well. Clarke's heart fell thinking of how she would have to leave the pups behind. Today was her first territory marking trip of the season, and the route she'd take was too long and taxing for her pups. Even Zula, her little speed demon.

She skipped up the steps of the wooden cabin and in the front door, not bothering to lock up anything on her way. No one disturbed her this far out of the city, and even if they tried she could smell them coming miles away. The cabin was small and only contained the necessities, but it was home.

Clarke hung her jacket and threw her keys on the kitchen table in the time honored gestures of arriving home, and darted down the short hallway to her small bedroom. She all but tore off the pressed gray slacks and button-up she wore to work. She tossed everything onto her unmade bed until she was naked. She caught a glimpse of herself in her vanity mirror, bare, her blonde hair falling free of its braid in her haste, the wildness lurking behind her crystal blue eyes. How anyone could not see what she truly was, she had no idea. She wore her wildness open and honest. Her father called it passion, but Clarke knew better.

Her pups were waiting for her in the living room lined up in a row. Zula, a brown and white Husky with eyes almost as blue as Clarke's, shifted on her haunches as she saw Clarke emerge naked. Zula was the beta to Clarke's alpha in their strange little pack, and she always knew when Clarke was ready to run. Leo, a mutt with a speckled coat, a bobbed tail and the floppy ears of a coonhound, also wriggled in anticipation. And her sweet Samson, a brown, shaggy, gentle giant, the size of a Great Pyrenees with the heart of a small puppy, simply lay with his chin set atop his paws. 

In her many sporadic research attempts of dog and wolf packs, Clarke found it was rare for a female to be pack alpha, but then again, whatever sort of pack this was, it certainly wasn't normal. Three abandoned dogs and a lone wolf did make a ridiculous group, but the dogs recognized Clarke as their alpha because she was bigger, stronger and faster.

A small part of her heart ached when she looked down at her pack and said, "Sorry, guys. Not this time."

Zula whined loud enough for the three of them and the other two pulled their eyebrows together to look over at him.

"Go on," Clarke gestured for the large, plush couches in her living room. "Have a nap, and you won't even notice I was gone."

They reluctantly turned and fell in line to go into the living room. She'd found the dogs one by one. First, Zula, at the shelter in town. A client mentioned something in passing about a litter of pups brought in, and the moment Clarke stared into Zula's big blue eyes, she had to bring her home. That had been almost three years ago. Six months later, they'd found Leo on one of their runs. He was limping through the forest on a bum paw. Clarke took him home and patched him up, and he never left her side after. Samson was a gift from her parents. They'd noticed her little entourage growing, and one of her father's friends had been fostering the giant puppy, but he'd outgrown the foster's house and needed more space. Clarke's pack welcomed him with open arms.

Clarke shifted effortlessly on her way to the side door and slipped through the dog flap she'd installed a year ago, padding down the steps and rounding the house to the rear woods. Her body was always faster than her mind at adjusting to the change, and it quickly equilibrated her weight across her four limbs and postured itself for covering the terrain. Her white fur gleamed in the spring sunlight as the surge of scents and sounds pricked at her senses, overloading her human mind before she gave over to her instincts and let them guide her.

She hadn't covered the core of her territory for weeks and felt the need to mark it as hers once again. This was her small piece of land to roam and protect, so she marked the boundaries with her scent and her claws. These markings acted as a warning for anyone contemplating passing through; although Clarke knew it was silly, since she'd never scented another wolf within hundreds of miles of her home, but she'd learned it was always easier to give in to the instinct that guided her in this body rather than let her human mind try to comprehend its motives.

The cold patches of snow still clutching to the earth were nothing against her padded paws which were adapted to withstand the temperature and abuse. She would only have the camouflage of winter's snow for another week, maybe two at the most, so she was sure to make the most of her remaining invisibility. The evening chill didn't phase her in the slightest in the heavy winter coat she had yet to shed for the warmer months.

It was well past midnight when she'd finally reached the edge of her land, but she trekked on, giddy with the time she still had to run before the sun came up. The night was her friend, when she was in this form. Darkness did not frighten her, but instead excited her, awakened her. She was a nocturnal animal by nature, and this was the time she thrived.

About three miles east of the boundary of her territory, her nose twitched as a familiar scent wafted to it: a squirrel. Her wolf licked its lips in anticipation for the hunt Clarke knew was coming. She tracked the squirrel silently, following him from tree to tree like a white ghost. Only when she lurched at a low hanging branch did the squirrel become aware of her presence, and it skittered out of reach quickly.

A strange, musky scent caught her attention on the trail as she followed the fresh squirrel tracks but her hungry stomach ignored it in favor of the hunt.

Within seconds she discovered it had been a mistake to ignore it. She smelled him again before she saw him, and her wolf instinctively dug her paws into the hard dirt to stop her forward motion. She had frozen in her tracks a few feet away from a large timber wolf expertly camouflaged against the brown bark of the trees. She must have surprised him as well, because a shocked yelp escaped him as she slid into view. He recovered quickly, taking an aggressive stance and giving her a low pitched growl of warning.

Fear rocked Clarke to the core at the commanding sound. She had never seen this wolf before, but the little experience she'd had with other male wolves did not instill any faith that he would be anything but hostile towards her. Her mind tried to calm the fight or flight instincts raging within her, insisting that no other wolves resided in this part of the state, so it was possible he was simply passing through.

 _Or he could have decided to claim this land as his own,_ her instincts snapped. 

Her fear doubled when she recognized he wasn't just any timber wolf. His intelligent eyes mirrored her own, and for some reason, she knew he was like her. A shifter, a _human_. Which meant he was even more dangerous.

Clarke's wolf was still battling:  _fight or flight, fight or flight, fight or flight._  The timber wolf had not yet made any moves towards her, still appraising her from his spot between the two pines. If she didn't get the chance to run she would have to fight, and she knew she would lose. He was twice her size, his body muscled, built for taking down prey.

But hers was smaller, sleeker, _faster,_  and she knew she could outrun him if given the chance.

The wolf cocked his head to the side, studying her and lifting his nose to scent the air around her. When he took a step towards her, she instinctively growled a warning for him to keep his distance. He paused but then moved forward once again in an attempt to scent her more intimately. Clarke snarled at him aggressively, effectively stopping his advance for a second time.

Just then, the squirrel, which until this moment she had hated with a passion, jumped from the tree branch directly above them to another tree nearby. It was her only chance. She didn't even hesitate as she spun and dashed back the same way she'd come. She was gone before the timber wolf's head had hardly moved towards the distraction. She ran as fast as her legs would take her towards home, but her ears flattened when she heard him move to chase her. He was fast for a wolf his size, but she knew this terrain like no other animal in the forest. She used it to her advantage, making quick turns, zig-zagging through the boulders and trees, attempting to confuse him.

The land that she had just meticulously combed with her nose the past few hours flew by in a panic as she took the shortest path to her safety. She was afraid to go straight home for fear of him discovering where she actually lived, so she made the quick decision to lead him out around the east side of the territory and trek back once she lost him.

After half an hour of running at full stop, Clarke's lungs burned, and her legs protested the speed at which she was still moving. She had managed to gain more distance between them, but he just wouldn't give up. He was still hunting her. She was getting close to the river and if she could reach it before him, she could maybe throw him off her trail.

A brilliant and dangerous idea flitted across her mind. If he didn't know the area as well as her, he would follow her no matter where she led him. She could take him up Big Bluff and try to jump the pass over the river. He'd never make it across if he wasn't prepared for the leap. She didn't think about it and just let her wolf guide her, but her human mind ticked off the many reasons she should ditch the plan. Still, her four paws carried her on towards the bluff.

After an exhausting climb, she could finally hear the river roaring in the distance. She made sure the timber wolf was still pursuing her, and hustled towards the water. She stepped lightly, listening for the shuffle of his paws and his heavy breathing. Now that he was closer behind her, she could hear his urgent yips and short barks more clearly, trying to communicate something to her. She ignored it and made a mad dash for the pass. It would take all the strength she had left in her back legs to make it across.

Time seemed to slow as she neared the pass. She heard the wolf behind her, felt the hard rocks beneath her, heard her heart hammering against her ribcage. The jump was upon her, and even though her human mind all but screamed for her to stop, her wolf flung itself into the air. She soared above the pass, the water below her gluttonous and heavy with spring's melting snow. 

Suddenly, she was on the other side, scrambling for purchase against the rocks, her back legs struggling to hoist her up. She desperately clawed at the side of the cliff before gaining a foot hold and pushing herself upright. Relief washed over her in waves; she'd made it, and she was safe. 

Her pursuer was still on the other side of the river.

She looked back in time to see him skitter to the edge, yipping at her frantically, still trying to say something to her. Now though, she was not afraid. He could not make the jump, and he would not catch her. She felt triumphant for just a moment, before remembering he'd be able to track her scent. She sped off again, using her sudden adrenaline rush to push herself towards home and safety.

Not even fifty feet into the boundary of her territory, she heard it. The piercing wolf howl struck down to her very bones, into her soul. A strange feeling overcame her for just a moment before she attempted to shake her head clear. Another howl, louder this time, and Clarke stopped running.  _Go to him,_ her wolf insisted.  _Go to the alpha._

Her human mind cut in. _No._

But her wolf was insistent.  _He is calling you._

_He is dangerous._

Clarke built herself up against the eerie feeling, blocking out the sound of the wolf's cries, and pushed on towards home. She could hear him for miles as she ran, her heart wrenching with each step she took away from him. But she knew, the  _human_ part of her knew, to go back would mean certain danger.

When she finally, reached her front porch, she shifted back and walked in the front door, only to be greeted by her anxious pack. They sniffled and fussed over the foreign wolf scents clinging to her. "Sorry, guys," She said, giving them all several pats and reassuring hugs. 

When she finally fell onto her bed after a snack and a shower, she replayed the evening's events in her human mind, forcing away instinct and thinking logically about the whole thing. After some contemplation, she realized that if she hadn't been so startled, the chase might have been less frighting. Maybe even fun. She felt crazy admitting it, but the exhilaration she felt at having something, _someone,_ finally able to keep up with her. She envisioned him clearly in her mind: huge, strong, powerful. The image stirred her wild side, as did the alpha male scent of him that lingered in her nose. She considered seeking him out again, but her human mind hushed the thought. _Dangerous,_ she reminded herself. She did not know this wolf, or his intentions. 

Paranoid, she lay awake, anticipating the sound of paws padding onto her front porch, but she never did. Even when the exhaustion took over and finally lulled her to sleep, the striking timber wolf was still there in her mind, haunting her dreams with his howls.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. Here's chapter two of this trash pile. It's a little longer and from Bellamy's perspective. Characters are a little OOC in this chapter and I'm sorry, I really couldn't help myself.
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated <3

**_Bellamy_ **

  

In his empty bedroom, the alarm clock sounded like a siren, blaring yet again after Bellamy had snoozed it three times. Finally, he rolled over in bed, glaring blearily at the clock. When he saw the time, however, he jumped out of bed with inhuman speed.  _Late as usual,_ he heard his mother's voice. Not fully remembering where he was, Bellamy did not see his suitcase sprawled open in front of him, and went flying as he tripped over it. He took a second to stable himself against the doorframe, groaning at what was lining up to be a pretty awful morning. 

The emptiness of his new home hit him as he hustled about getting ready. He'd inherited his family's old estate as a gift from his father, an old lodge on a hefty chunk of land their family owned. The house had been empty for years, since the pack relocated to Polis about 100 miles south. The house begged for a complete gut and reno, with its solid structure but outdated design. Currently, the ten bedroom home was too big for only him, but he knew (and hoped) that one day not too far into the future, he wouldn't live here alone.

Although Bellamy had almost no desire to ascend and lead his father's large, distinguished city pack as his family had assumed he would, he was still an alpha by nature, and he couldn't ignore that part of him. His mother always poked fun at his stubbornness, and his sister said it'd get him into trouble. But he just wanted to carve out his own path. Right now, that path meant sticking it out as a lone wolf to prepare for his future family. His new pack. 

 _Shit,_ he thought as he glanced at his watch. He had several important meetings today about the state of this house, and the first one started in an hour, which is how long it would take him to get into town.  _Why the fuck did I go out again last night?_

The image of the the white wolf still haunted him even after several weeks. Her pristine white fur and crystal blue eyes appeared so vividly in his mind, stark contrast against the dark woods that night. Like an angel or a ghost, she had appeared for only an instant, gone before he could even be sure she was real. Save for her scent, which had lingered for the rest of the night after he lost sight of her beautiful body. 

Just the memory of that scent awakened his animal instinct and his inner wolf practically growled:  _f_ _ind her._

 _We tried,_ he grumbled for the hundredth time. It was obvious the wolf did not want to be found.

He thought that he would catch up to her easily, but she turned out to be a fast little thing. And wild to boot. Bellamy didn't deny he thought he had finally caught up to her after an exhilarating chase, but then she had launched herself across that ravine. And he realized what a fool he'd been; she'd misled him on purpose, tricked him into thinking he'd won. When she turned around on the other side to give him one last triumphant look, she had looked like a princess, proud and regal before she darted away out of his sight forever.

It didn't change the fact that he had loved chasing her. Bellamy couldn't even be sure what he would have done once he managed to catch her, yet his wolf refused to give him reprieve from the hunt even after a month.

Bellamy examined the dark circles starting to form under his eyes in the bathroom mirror as he brushed his teeth. He had been working like a dog for three weeks. The unintended pun made him crack a smile in the mirror. Traveling back and forth from Polis to his new home was starting to wear on him. His father had reluctantly agreed to let him do this project as long as he could still keep up with his responsibilities at the family business.

His father still expected him to survey, write up contracts, and build custom woodwork during the week. But on top of that, Bellamy had been traveling the few hours north every Friday to clean and prepare the alpha house for remodeling. He would likely get more done if he wasn't up tracking  _her_  at all hours of the night during the few days he had to work on it each week.

He had sworn to himself that he would not go hunting a third weekend in a row, but the urge to find the white wolf was impossible to resist. He and his wolf usually had a pretty good balance, especially for a guy destined to be an alpha. Bellamy inevitably thought of his impulsive younger sister and her tendency to let her wolf dominate her. Her wild temper and stubbornness were characteristic alpha behavior. But those traits weren't always what made an alpha dominant.

The New Ways did not not promote a fight to the death to decide the alpha, but rather through a vote of the pack. Bellamy's father, Rhys, had been elected to alpha because he was well-spoken, calculated and logical to a fault; a natural leader and a natural pick for the alpha of a large, established pack. Rhys had led the pack through tumultuous years, and no one challenged his authority, physically or otherwise. Bellamy and his sister knew the stories of what their father was capable of during the wars many years ago. 

Basically, he was impossible to live up to, and Bellamy knew he could never even come close to being the alpha Rhys had become. Even his immature sister probably had a better chance of filling their father's shoes, and she definitely had the audacity to  _think_ she could do it.

As he got dressed, Bellamy's mind drifted back to the white wolf. Who was she? Bellamy hadn't heard of any packs living in these parts in decades, but surely she couldn't be living alone. He'd never once met a lone wolf free of a pack; they were rare and unprecedented, as packs offered socialization, order and protection. 

He shook his head as he slammed his feet into his shoes. No matter how hard he tried, he could not shake free from the thought of her. He needed to _focus_ because he needed to find an architect to contract with him on the renovation plans for the house. Bellamy would do much of the construction and contracting himself, but he needed someone with a keen eye for design to reign in the wild and erratic visions he had for the house. 

Several firms in Polis had already drawn up plans for him, but he hadn't committed to any of them yet. He had heard of a small but highly respected firm in the town of Arkadia, an hour from his new property, and they were anticipating a meeting with him today, which he would undoubtedly be late for. 

 

An hour later, Griffin Architecture was set just outside the quaint, historic downtown area of Arkadia, housed in a beautifully restored log cabin. The firm had one principal architect, Jake Griffin, who Bellamy knew was experienced in a multitude of project types. His work ranged from new construction and renovation of both commercial and residential work, to public sector and historical preservation. He had been one of the key business members in the downtown revitalization project that had helped bring Arkadia back to life after several years of economic downturn. He was a respected member of the community and well known in the local construction world.

Bellamy had reservations about Griffin's work because of his formal, modern style, which certainly did not match his own. However, he'd changed his mind when he stopped by an open house just outside of town. The house had been completely gutted and renovated inside, design courtesy of Griffin Architecture. Still, the farmhouse had maintained a rustic feel, and the real estate agent pointed out the exposed wood support beams that were part of the original home's design. In fact, much of the original home had been restored, including the original hickory hardwood floors. The floor plan had been changed, several walls knocked out to create a larger, open-concept space that let in plenty of light. 

The house had a feeling to it that Bellamy loved, and he knew right then not to write off Griffin completely. He'd immediately contacted the office and set up the meeting for the following week. Now, though, he was running late, and he hated making bad first impressions. He hustled up the front walk to the architecture firm, his mind reeling with questions and ideas, but that all vanished when he opened the door. 

The scent floored him the moment he stepped inside. Overwhelmed him, short-circuiting his brain so that all he could focus on was the  _fucking incredible scent._ So dense was it that his wolf could distinguish layers; the fresh, mouthwatering scent of perfume just minutes old, and the faded smells clinging to the carpets and walls over weeks and months. 

She was here. Somewhere in this office. His wolf was practically chomping at the bit.  _Find her._

Bellamy almost laughed at his luck. He'd been searching miles of woods and land, and yet here she was, in the small town not an hour away from him. Without thinking, he tracked the freshest trail, failing to _not_ look like a predator stalking his prey. The reception desk was empty, but he knew if anyone saw him they would without a doubt recognize the crazed, inhuman look in his eyes, the look of a hunter. 

The intoxicating fragrance led him down a wide hallway, just past the reception desk. He passed two private offices as the scent grew heavier. He rounded the corner and froze.

She was standing with her back to him at a small kitchen counter. She was small, at least a head or two shorter than he was, but his eyes roamed over her curves unabashedly. She was drumming her fingers against the granite countertop while coffee brewed in the machine. Bellamy couldn't move, couldn't breathe, because here she was, right in front of him after _weeks_ of searching. He took in her slender frame, the silvery blonde hair pulled up into a bun to expose her neck. He didn't dare move for fear that she'd disappear again. 

He could tell the instant that she sensed him. In the corner, furthest from him, the counter held a table top fridge. She had moved as if to open the door, but then stood there frozen, her knuckles turning white against the handle. Her breathing suddenly became shallow and he could taste the sharp twinge of her fear permeating the air. Despite that fear, she turned around unhurriedly, pressing her back against the counter with a tight grip on the ledge as if she could crawl on top of it to get further away from him.

He cocked his head to the side, openly taking in her features, her stark blue eyes glued to his face. He smiled. She was perfect. 

"Hello, Princess."

She blinked at him, and her heart fluttered wildly in anticipation or fear, he wasn't certain. She broke eye contact for the first time since laying eyes on him, casting a fleeting look to the doorway just behind him and then to the corners of the room, as if assessing her chances of escaping him once again.

He chuckled a little, amused at her tendency towards flight. "You won't get away from me this time." He cocked his eyebrow at her in a friendly challenge.

Her pretty pink tongued flicked out to lick her pretty pink lips before she released the death grip on the counter behind her. She smoothed her skirt down her front, taking deep breaths and trying to calm herself a little in the process, yet he could see a small tremor in her hands.

Well, that was worrisome. He stepped forward to introduce himself and further gauge her reaction but she immediately moved a step in the opposite direction, down the length of counter, effectively placing a small round table with a few chairs between them.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked him pointedly. Her voice was quiet but clear, and there was no fear in it. 

"Yes. I think you can." He smiled broadly again, but he could feel the tension in the air ratchet up a notch. She didn't see this as a friendly game, he realized. She was genuinely frightened of him. It was there in the rigid way she held herself, still as far as possible from him and also there in the tight clench of her jaw and small fists at her sides. Although not clearly written on her face, he could smell it in the air – her anxiety.

"I apologize." He offered, holding his hands out as a display of friendliness. "I'm just curious about you."

"Curiosity killed the cat," She deadpanned.

He smiled wolfishly at her prickly remark, but she didn't return his amusement.

He huffed. "Can we maybe just start over?" He was referring not only to the short tense conversation they'd just had but also the chase that had been the spectacular beginning of their involvement. He began inching his way toward her, trying not to spook the animal within but her sharp eyes tracked every little movement he made.

"My name is Bellamy Blake. Son of the Polis Pack Alpha, Rhys Blake."

This was the traditional introduction when meeting another werewolf. Name, rank, pack. He was proud of where he came from, his family and their pack and his pride showed in his reverential tone of voice. And maybe a small part of him wanted to impress her.

She stared at him for a minute, her delicate blonde eyebrows drawing together in confusion before she cleared her throat. She didn't look impressed at all.

"Um, I'm Clarke," She said, pausing. She wrinkled her nose and then, "Daughter of Jake Griffin... of Griffin Architecture?" This statement actually sounded more like a question.

So no pack or no rank? Or neither? Although charmed by her mirrored response, Bellamy still had no clues as to who this girl was – in fact, to his knowledge Griffin was not a wolf at all. This didn't make sense in any way.

"… who you were supposed to meet..." she glanced at the clock on the break room wall, "…fifteen minutes ago. He's in the conference room now." She had finished more confidently, as if reprimanding him for being late.

"Right." He said sardonically. Perplexed didn't even begin to cover it.

They both continued to stand there, facing off. Bellamy's wolf, still so close to the surface during their tense exchange was irritated by her lack of submission or even recognition as alpha. She refused to look away when he stared at her or show him any respect in her actions.

"Perhaps you could show me the way,  _Ms. Griffin_?"

"Of course." The words came out snippily, but to his amusement she did not move from her place on the opposite side of the room. It was several long moments before she took that first step. It obviously took great effort for her to consciously walk towards him, as some kind of perceived danger. But still, she did it gracefully.

He could have made it easier on her by moving out of the way, but the temptation to be close enough to touch won out, hands down. She didn't flinch, but didn't linger on her way by, keeping a sly eye on him the whole way as if he might jump her. He couldn't say the thought didn't cross his mind. He didn't of course, but oh how he wanted to, especially after getting another whiff of her luscious scent.

She had turned her back fully to him now and he was forced to follow her lead down the hall which raised the hackles of that alpha part of him again. He stifled an irritated growl and put a lid on his wolf. _How about we don't scare off the one damn thing we've been pining over for weeks,_ he reminded himself.

She led him a few doors down the hall into a small conference room, a large cherry red table surrounded by seven leatherback chairs. At the head of the table sat an older man with salt and pepper hair wearing a crisp navy blue suit. He stood as Clarke entered, giving her a look of discontent, as if she had clearly been the late one and not the client following behind her.

Jake Griffin was a handsome man, and Bellamy paid particular attention to his senses but didn't smell anything but human.

Clarke cleared her throat. "Excuse me. This is Bellamy Blake." She gestured back towards him and then back to the pair at the table. "Bellamy, this is my father, Jake Griffin."

Bellamy reached out to shake hands with Mr. Griffin, who returned the handshake with an equal amount of force.

"Yes, we've been expecting you Mr. Blake." The statement did not hold any contempt, yet just the words were disapproving. Bellamy couldn't blame him. His own father felt the same way about tardiness – it was disrespectful.

"Please, call me Bellamy," He said, putting on a professional front. "I'm so sorry I'm late. I really have no excuse."

"Please, sit." Griffin gestured to the seat on his left.

Clarke left the room without a word or a glimpse in their direction. Bellamy couldn't help but follow her movement out of the room with some slight displeasure. Mr. Griffin forged on with their meeting after observing him quietly for a moment, perhaps not completely oblivious to the tension between his retreating daughter and this bemused man with an eager inner-wolf intent on claiming her very soon.

"So, Bellamy. What brings you here?" Griffin leaned back in his chair, casually crossing his legs beneath the table. "I believe I've met your father, Rhys, on occasion, but never one of his sons. Are you in the business with him?"

Bellamy turned his full attention back to the head of the table. Naturally, Griffinknew of his father. He had begun his business as a carpenter here in Heber Springs and because of the quality and beauty of his work, the business had quickly flourished.

"Yes, sir, I'm a master carpenter."

Griffinsmiled politely. "Your company does beautiful work. If I didn't so often have the budget or distance constraints, I would use you all more often. But perhaps you are here to offer some opportunity for us to work together."

"Well, Mr. Griffin, I'm in need of an architect for a personal project of mine. A home renovation."

"In Polis?" Griffin's eyebrows drew together, a behavioral tick reminding him of his daughter who had quietly re-entered the room carrying a tray of coffee, water, fresh fruit, and cookies. She kept her eyes down and began to set up the items on the buffet along the far wall of the room, completely ignoring their conversation. Her presence demanded Bellamy's attention like nothing he'd experienced before. His eyes tracked each movement she made even while in conversation with her father.

"No, sir – my family owns a lodge, about thirty miles from Arkadia. For the last twenty years, it's been empty. The project would include a renovation of the main living quarters as well as the separate garage and guest quarters."

Griffin nodded his head. "I see. I do recall your family living in the area before relocating. Although I've never seen the property in person."

This didn't surprise Bellamy at all. No one but pack was ever allowed on the property except in necessary situations. Privacy was particularly important to them.

"Are you looking to do a complete renovation or is this just bringing the place up to code?" Griffin asked.

"I'm thinking complete reno. The house is outdated, and cramped with small rooms," Bellamy paused, meeting Griffin's professionally interested gaze head on. "If I'm being completely honest, sir, I hadn't really considered your firm for the job until I saw the renovated farmhouse off Route 74."

Clarke froze in place, the pot of cream she was holding hovering above the buffet. Out of respect for her father, Bellamy had maintained eye contact with him throughout the conversation, but she was never completely absent from his attention and he wondered at her sudden interest in their conversation, when she had been pointedly ignoring them before now.

"Is that so?" Griffin's tone had changed slightly, perhaps in surprise at his bluntness. He didn't want to offend the man, but he didn't want to waste his time either.

"Frankly, I thought it was one of the most innovative designs I've seen in awhile. It's exactly the kind of style I want, but I haven't seen in your other work. I don't want to waste your time, nor mine." Bellamy was anything if not straightforward.

"Of course not."

Clarke had just reached the door to leave once again, when Jake Griffin called her name.

"Clarke, I believe this may turn into your meeting rather than mine. Would you get your portfolio and planner and come back here straight away."

Bellamy could have sworn he heard her sigh ever so softly before she turned around and politely smiled, though it didn't come near to reaching her eyes. "I'll be back shortly."

Bellamy turned his attention back to her father, not hiding the confusion on his face.

Griffin's lips quirked up in the corners, and he clarified, "Although, my name may be listed as principal architect on that project, it was my daughter's design."

Bellamy's face must have shown his surprise because Griffin continued on, satisfied with the fact that Bellamy hadn't known it was Clarke's work. He nodded in her general direction.

"Clarke is a recent graduate and an intern architect, still unlicensed. Currently, she is limited to working up contracts, serving as a client contact, and helping with working drawings. I allowed her to act as principal on the old farmhouse with limited field supervision to see how well she performed. Obviously, she is young, but an excellent student with an eye for good design. I think her work speaks for itself. She has exceeded my expectations and has now brought on additional business I couldn't have anticipated."

Clarke entered the room again, her cheeks flushed attractively at her father's praise. The man came off cold, but he was obviously proud of her despite the fact the he couldn't really be her father. Bellamy felt some odd respect for this man he just met – if only for caring for the she-wolf that he was now oh-so-curious about.

"If you agree to the terms, we can run this project the same way. Clarke will act as principal architect under my supervision. You will meet with her to develop the design brief for the project and I will approve the final design before it is tendered."

As she crossed the room and sat directly across from Bellamy, she slid a thick manila folder towards him.

"We can give you time to look at her portfolio. If these terms are not agreeable then I'm afraid we may not be able to help you. I don't see our partnership having a future without my daughter as the lead designer. "

Bellamy glanced at Clarke for a moment to see how she was handling this. She seemed more relaxed in his presence, but she looked like she trusted him only about as far as she could throw him. That was evident in the critical stare she was giving him. Perhaps her suspicions about him could be remedied by working together on this project. Not to mention appease his wolf with some quality one-on-one time with her.

Not to seem too eager, Bellamy rested his elbows on the table in front of him and casually leaned across the table. With his eyes still locked on hers, he held out his hand for the portfolio.

"Do you mind?"

She motioned for him to go ahead, and he pulled the folder to him.

Mr. Griffinstood up from his chair. "We'll give you a minute."

In her first gesture of non-contempt, Clarke stood and offered some welcomed hospitality. "Would you like some coffee?"

He looked up in surprise. "I'd love some."

She smirked a little to herself and turned to pour him a cup from the French press she had carried in earlier. Everything about her was mesmerizing to him. He had to remind himself to open the folder and study her drawings – not ogle her now that she wasn't under the protective watch of her father. As he flipped through the pages, though, he was quickly absorbed into her portfolio.

It included her design projects along with a small resume. He was not surprised to learn that she was an honors student and a member of several honor and professional societies with a long list of awards for her work. In each project, from inner city urban housing to an outdoor arbortoreum, there was a crisp but inviting look that had become recognizable as something of a firm style. Though it was not the result of an aesthetic predilection so much as a commitment to certain principles which she outlined as "honest use of materials" and, of course, sustainability.

"Your work is amazing." He uttered the sincere compliment unintentionally and then watched as that beautiful flush spread across her cheeks again.

She smiled slightly despite herself. "Thank you."

She reached across the wide table to set his coffee along with the cream and sugar in front of him, not daring to cross to his side.

"Why did you run from me?"

Her eyes widened in surprise at the question but as mentioned before, he wasn't a person that danced around issues. He supposed it wasn't really the right time or place for the conversation, but of the many questions he had about her, this was first and foremost in his mind at the moment.

"Why did you chase me?" she countered.

"I do believe you were on my land. And what is a man…." He paused and flashed a sardonic smile, "….rather – a wolf, supposed to do but give chase when presented with someone, something, like you."

"I…I…" She looked completely perplexed.

 _Welcome to my world_ , he thought.

"You're right. I was on your land." She blinked as if just realizing this fact. "I suppose I should apologize."

He rose from his seat, ignoring the coffee set in front of him. It was a compulsion to be close to her, despite the warnings she'd sent that she didn't welcome it. Already, he could see her body stiffen all over again - poised for a battle or escape if necessary.

She held her position as he moved towards her, though her nervousness seeped into her voice, giving it a shaky quality. "You're doing it again."

"What's that?" he asked. He was around the table now to her side, only a few feet away.

She backed up a little, but there was no fear in her eyes. In fact, as he got closer, he noted some amusement, a flicker of intrigue. "Chasing me."

He chuckled a little darkly. "Yes. And I'll keep at it until I catch you."

She searched his eyes, looking for reasons – asking for answers to unspoken questions.  _So he wasn't the only one with questions._  There were so many unsolved mysteries hanging between them that neither one could ever possibly solve in the here and now that they would have to be content in not knowing. But Bellamy didn't think he could ever be content in not knowing this creature – in all ways physically possible.

He continued to hold her intense, challenging gaze, towering over her slight frame until the air around them crackled with the sparks of their electric attraction. His discontent had been building slowly over the weeks he'd pursued her – with her nowhere to be found. Now that she was right here in front of him, she felt even more out of reach - slipping through his fingers, as if he was trying to hold on to moving water. She had managed to wind him up into a tight ball of frustration in such a short time, he mused. Eventually, Bellamy instinct got the better of him, and he found himself leaning over her, pushing his broad shoulders back and his chest out in a show of dominance.

"You know, I don't believe you actually apologized before." His voice was tight, controlled; his gaze unwavering.

Her jaw clenched, echoing the frustration he felt, but then something changed; a yielding recognition bloomed in her eyes that was not there before. Even though her breathing was still rather erratic and her hesitation hung thickly the air, she didn't move away from him as he had already learned was her impulse. After a moment, she averted her eyes to the floor and spoke almost inaudibly. "I'm sorry."

 _Asshole_ , he cursed himself for the rough show of dominance, and it surprised him - the gentleness pouring out from his usually harsh animal side. All parts of him desperately wanted to gather her up in his arms and hold her, but he doubted she would find this comforting, so he held himself still.

His words sounded tortured this time. "Don't be."

Slowly, gently, he brought his fingers under her chin and tilted it up to face him.

Clear, blue eyes met his own once again, but this time neither one of them were asserting anything but quiet interest. His wolf rumbled softly in pleasure at her willingness to be near him. "You are welcome any time in my woods, Princess."

Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink and she averted her eyes coyly, unintentionally exposing her neck – an action that simultaneously flattered her and set his blood on fire. He instantly felt saliva flood his mouth and his canines begin to elongate at the sight of all that beautiful pale flesh, ripe for marking. Even as he leant in, just to be a tiny bit nearer, just to indulge one more time in her scent, her head snapped up and she moved swiftly away from him.

Not a second later, her father stepped in the room, glancing between the two of them surreptitiously. Griffin calmly poured himself a cup of coffee while Bellamy took a second to regain his bearings.

He had been so completely lost in Clarke that he'd totally missed the sound of Griffin's footsteps coming down the hall towards the conference room.

"What do you think Mr. Blake?" Griffin took a sip of black coffee, waiting for an answer.

Bellamy cleared his throat. "I agree with you and your terms, Mr. Griffin. Clarke is immensely talented, and I wouldn't want anyone else to work on my project." He met Clarke's eyes again before adding more softly, "I believe I've found what I'm looking for." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... the fact that people are actually reading and enjoying this is nuts. Thank you all so much for the comments / kudos / bookmarks. I am honored to have support and company on this trashy, wolfy, steamy, romantic journey I'm on. 
> 
> Again, fair warning, this is far from edited. Read at your own risk.

**_Clarke_ **

 

_Her four feet carried her swiftly through the forest. She'd gained some ground, but over the hammering of her heart in her ears, she could still hear him not far behind her. He was chasing her again, but this time, she wasn't scared. She took a sharp turn towards the stream, thinking she'd lose him, but yelped when his large, brown wolf splashed into the water several yards in front of her._

_She skidded to a stop, spraying him with water. They circled each other, and the wolf rumbled happily, as if to say,_ caught you.

_She yipped right as he lunged for her, yielding quickly as his jaws found her neck._

_Suddenly, they shifted, and Bellamy now hovered over her in the stream, the water chilly against their bare skin. He leaned down as if to press his lips to her neck -_

Leo barked once, twice, and Clarke rocketed into a sitting position in bed, her heart racing from yet  _another_ dream about Bellamy Blake. She shook her head to clear away the final remnants of the dream lingering there. Even before she had been able to put a human face and a name to the wolf from the woods, he'd haunted her subconscious. For weeks, she had almost been afraid to shift because her wolf was so adamant about finding  _him._ Every time she'd been on four feet, her instincts took her to the river, to the last place she'd seen him. Every time, when she got halfway there, her logical side kicked in, and she turned around to go home.

 _He found us anyway,_ her wolf reminded her almost gleefully. 

He had.

She'd been preoccupied with the coffee machine and the budget proposal from Collins Construction.  _Stupid,_ she thought, it was stupid she hadn't noticed him coming. The moment she realized  _he_ was there, the large dark wolf who'd given her the scare of her life just weeks before, was standing - of all places - in her father's office.

When she first turned around to face him, she was struck by just how much he  _looked_ like an animal. Even in grey slacks and a dress shirt, he had a wild look about him. For starters, he was huge, practically taking up the whole doorframe of the break room. Secondly, his eyes. They were a dark amber and glued to her every move, a predator's eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, and from the look on his face, she'd known he knew it.

And now,  _now_ she was working with him. For him. Because her father saw her fit to run a project practically unsupervised. She'd tried arguing with him after Bellamy left and all but begged him to take her off the case.

Jake Griffin had smiled at her, revealing the softness he kept hidden during work hours. "This project would be huge for you," He'd said. "I can't allow you to pass up this opportunity."

He'd said it with such finality that she didn't argue. It  _would_ be a huge project and a great boost for her portfolio. Heading a complete renovation of a ten-bedroom lodge? Unheard of for an architect of her age and with her experience. And some small part of her - the  _wolf_ part - wanted to spend more time with Bellamy Blake. She had never, ever encountered someone else like her in her twenty-three years of life, and to say she had a lot of questions would be an understatement. 

Zula yipped from the bedroom doorway, ready for her breakfast and a run.

Clarke groaned and got to her feet. "All right, Miss Impatient. Go get your brother."

Zula all but sprinted from the bedroom to the living room where Clarke knew Samson was sprawled on one of the two couches. When she emerged into the kitchen, Leo at her heels, she spied Zula sniffing hurriedly at Samson as the sleepy giant got to his feet. After getting breakfast for the pups, Clarke forced down a bowl of cereal, both dreading and eager for the eventual contact she'd have to make with Bellamy Blake.

On their run, Clarke took it easy, not wanting to exhaust her poor pack. Still, she pushed them towards the river, to a quieter part where the water flowed gentler and there was a sandy bank for the dogs to run in and out. Leo flung himself headfirst into the water, not even bothering to worry about the icy temperature. The morning air was brisk, and the sun's rays didn't quite reach through the canopy yet. Zula dipped her front paw in and decided that some splashing was not worth freezing to death, and instead lapped up some water for herself.

Samson lumbered over to where Clarke had sat down and plopped himself down next to her, giving her front paws a few affectionate licks. Her lazy boy.

She let her mind wander while Leo and Zula explored, and her wolf turned in the direction of Bellamy's house, which sat just six miles north across the river. Clarke was already familiar with the property, having explored it numerous times on her runs. She'd always wondered who had abandoned the lodge and when, and now she wanted to laugh because a pack of wolves, people like her, people like _Bellamy,_ had once called it home.

Seeing him in her father's office, knowing he knew what she truly was, it was like her worlds had collided. Clarke had always kept the two sides of herself completely separate for obvious reasons; she was surrounded by humans that had no idea that she was also a wolf. She rarely ever admitted it to herself: that she was a _werewolf_. She tried to act completely normal and human most of the time, but there was an undeniable wild side to her that would exert itself if Clarke kept her cooped up too long. Not even her parents really knew.

Of course they'd had suspicions, but her mother was willfully obtuse even to this day. Just yesterday, while they ate their lunch she had placed a cool, firm hand on Clarke's forehead worrying over yet another fever that Clarke didn't have. She had caught her father's eyes at that moment, seeing the knowledge there that he never spoke aloud - that she was _different._

Clarke knew in her heart she was lucky that she had been left with people like them; it could have been far worse.

Really, it isn't everyday an infant is left on your doorstep. Even rarer that it turns out to not be a normal human baby. For Abby Griffin, a woman not able to bear her own children, Clarke had been a gift from God, and Jake couldn't deny his wife happiness that she'd always desired. For his part, he had gone as far as having adoption papers forged so that Clarke would be legitimately theirs.

They had cared for her, loved her, and given her a life that apparently her biological parents could not. Or would not. But that didn't mean it was easy. Her mother had struggled to raise a child whom she didn't understand, couldn't even begin to fathom was so radically different than herself.

Just imagine for a moment having a child that had a predilection for smelling everything in the world around her; or would announce from her high chair her father's arrival home before he'd even made it in sight of their house. Or on too many occasions had gotten "lost" in the forest; once after sneaking out of bed because she had wanted to taste the snow, showing no signs of hypothermia even after several hours alone in the woods.

The last one had nearly caused her mother a mental breakdown and her father had put a stop to the "acting out." He moved them to a bigger house close to the downtown of Arkadia, away from the wildness of the forest and tried to ease Clarke's normalization. He had told her one day that she had a responsibility to act ordinary for her own protection, if not solely her mother's sanity. It was the only time he had spoken aloud about her "condition" and she had listened and learned as well as a grade school child could.

When she was eleven years old, her already cracked identity broke into a million pieces at finding herself in a wholly different body. She hadn't so much transformed as the creature had forced itself out of her; scratched and clawed its way to the surface and then taken over her consciousness. She had still been herself, yet not herself. Clarke often felt like she had never really put the pieces back together quite right after that. Like a defective puzzle where some sections were still missing and a few wrong pieces had been forced to fit together.

But she and her wolf eventually came understanding with each other, one that allowed Clarke to not feel quite as imbalanced as she had throughout her adolescent years. And of course her pups had helped. To go from pathetically alone to the leader of a pack of sorts had brought her back from the edges of deep depression. Individually they had been orphans; abandoned for whatever reasons each would probably never truly know. Together they were a family. They provided love and companionship to her, and in exchange, she gave them a home. 

About an hour later, Zula was nipping at Clarke's heels as they raced back to the house, Leo not far behind. Samson took his time, about a hundred yards behind the rest of them. When he finally emerged through the large dog flap on the back screened-in porch, Clarke had a bowl of water waiting for him. 

After a shower and some pacing, Clarke now stared at her cell phone in one hand and Bellamy's card in the other. It was Monday, but her father's firm was only open Tuesday through Thursday and every other Friday, so she wasn't at her office to call him from the firm's number. Still, she'd agreed to call him today to set up a meeting. _Ugh._ Finally, she dialed the number, praying he didn't answer.

Luck seemed to be on her side today, as she got  _You have reached the voicemail of... Bellamy Blake ... At the tone, please record your message._

"Hi, Mr. Blake. This is Clarke Griffin calling to set up a meeting sometime this week to begin going over plans for your property. If you have access to the blueprints, those would be a good place to start. Please call me back at my office and we can set something up."

She left her her office number, just in case, and dropped her phone to the counter, relief washing over her. She had done the damn thing, extended the olive branch so to speak, and now she could get on with her day, which involved several loads of laundry and a complete wipe-down of her screened-in porch.

Four hours, three loads of laundry, and seven spider trap-and-releases later, Clarke checked her cell phone. 

 **Missed Call** from **Unknown Number**

 **Voicemail** from **Unknown Number**

 **Text Message** from  **Unknown Number**

Clarke's eyebrows practically shot off her head. The unknown number had to be Bellamy, but it wasn't the office number listed on his business card. It was then Clarke had realized her mistake. She'd left her office number for him to use, but she had called him from her personal cell, and no doubt he had caller ID. _Now he has your phone number_ , she scolded herself. _Nice going_. Regardless, she held her breath and pressed 'play' on the voicemail.

" _Clarke, this is Bellamy. Sorry I missed your call earlier. I won't be back in Arkadia until Friday, so let's plan to meet then if you're free. Just let me know what works for you. Also, I'm calling from my cell, which is probably the best way for you to reach me in the future. Thanks."_

She could practically hear the smug, stupid grin on his face, and it made her want to chuck her phone across the room. Instead, she opened the text message from him.

 **Unknown Number:** _Oh, and please call me Bellamy. None of that "Mr. Blake" stuff._

She stared at her phone for a long moment, and then decided  _not_ to text him back because  _professional boundaries_ were a thing that would be crucial if she wanted to maintain any semblance of sanity around him. She also disregarded his offer to call his cell phone, and instead again called his office number.

"Mr. Blake - Clarke Griffin. Friday works for me. I'll drop you an email, which is probably the easiest way to communicate in the future since you're out of town. We'll speak soon."

She then drafted an email detailing her availability on Friday and into next week, what she expected to be discussed in the meeting and potential dates and times for her to check out the property. She sent the email and turned to change out of her dirty clothes, but her phone rang,  **Unknown Number** flashing on the screen.

She took and deep breath, steeling herself, and answered the phone. "Mr. Blake."

"I thought I told you to call me Bellamy," His deep chuckle rumbled over the line. 

She ignored his question and asked, "Did you get my email?"

"Yeah, just now. I'm sorry I keep missing you. It's definitely not on purpose."

His tone was suggestive at the very least, and Clarke tried not to read to much into it as he continued. "How about we have our Friday meeting out at the house? That way you can take a tour and get the blueprints and all that stuff."

Clarke found she didn't have any reason to protest. At least he was logical. "That sounds good. What time should I be there?"

"Let's say ten? I'll be driving in from Polis."

"That works for me," She replied, jotting down the reminder on a blank slip of paper.  _As if you'd forget,_ her wolf practically rolled its eyes.

"Great. I look forward to seeing you," He said, a smile evident in his voice.

She almost blurted out  _same here,_ but then remembered  _professional boundaries._ "See you then," She replied, and hung up before he could get in the last word.

She stared at her phone for a while, dreading the four days she now had to agonize over before she saw him.

Unfortunately, Bellamy had different ideas. A little before five p.m. that Thursday, her father had headed out for the evening, and Clarke's eyes were blurring as she stared at a BlueBeam design she'd been working on for her father. Suddenly, the spicy scent she'd come to recognize filled the room, and she started when she glanced up and saw Bellamy standing in the doorway.

He was leaning casually against the doorjamb, looking every bit effortless and devastating at the same time in khakis and a wrinkled blue button-up. He'd allowed a five o'clock shadow to appear since she'd last seen him, and his hair had sprung free from whatever gel he'd used to hold it in place. He was every bit as handsome as she remembered him being, and her ridiculous, automatic attraction to him infuriated her.

"Hi," He said warmly, offering a lopsided smile.

"Hi," She repeated back to him, not bothering to hide her surprise at his presence. "I thought you said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow."

"I got more finished than I'd planned so..." He shrugged and walked towards the desk. "I brought you something."

From behind his back he presented a thick roll of paper and set it down on the desk with mock flourish. 

"The blueprints," Clarke said, unable to mask her excitement at the thought of digging into them later tonight. She looked up at him, smiling openly. "You didn't have to. I could have waited until tomorrow."

Again, he shrugged and grinned back at her, clearly pleased at her reaction. "I'm sure you could have, Princess, but here I am. Have you eaten dinner?"

"Oh, um, no," She said unsurely. Was he about to ask her to eat dinner with him? Her brain wracked for any excuse, but her wolf was too busy inhaling his scent, which was sharp and masculine and very, very strong since he was standing so close.

"Are you hungry? We could get something to eat and go over the prints."

"Mr. Blake, I don't think -" She started.

"Please, I told you, call me Bellamy."

" _Bellamy._ I think dinner would be unprofessional."

"Unprofessional," Bellamy said as if testing out the word. He squared her with a firm gaze, seemingly searching for something in her expression. He opened his mouth, but before he could say something, he whipped his head towards the door, which swung open a moment later.

"Hey, Clarke, I just wanted to..." Finn Collins stopped short as he took in Bellamy leaning against the side of Clarke's desk. "Oh. Hey, I'm Finn."

He held his hand out to Bellamy, but Bellamy just stared at it like it offended him. "Bellamy," He said, suddenly cold and aloof, and kept his hands pressed against the desk.

Clarke saw her opportunity in the awkward moment of silence and took it. "I have plans," She said to Bellamy. 

The werewolf glanced between her and the young man standing in the doorway. When he looked back at her, his mouth was pressed in a firm line, and his eyes were ablaze with something that looked like... jealousy? No, definitely not. That'd be ludicrous. He didn't have any claim on her, Clarke reminded herself. They were  _strangers._

 _But you want him to be jealous,_ her wolf sang.

"I see," Bellamy said curtly. He turned and strode toward the door. "Finn, a pleasure," He nodded at Finn but his tone suggested that their meeting was anything but pleasurable. Finn stepped out of the way to let Bellamy pass, and right before he left he said, "See you tomorrow,  _Miss Griffin._ "

The door swung shut, and Finn turned to her, holding up a stack of forms no doubt from his father. "Jeez, what's that guy's problem?"

Clarke bit her lip because honestly, she had no idea.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so so much for the feedback. I am honestly floored and completely unworthy. Without further adieu, here's chapter four of this dump <3

_**Clarke** _

 

The next morning, Clarke all but funneled two cups of coffee into her mouth. She'd been up half the night tossing and turning for reasons that were beyond her. After coffee, she went to get dressed, and for some reason her closet seemed barren this morning.  _You want to impress him,_ her wolf said smugly.  _No,_ she absolutely did  _not_ want to impress Bellamy Blake. Ignoring her inner turmoil, she chose a chambray button-down and some forest green pants that hugged her butt nicely. She slipped on her comfiest pair of shoes, a pair of tan loafers she often wore to on-site meetings because they were good for walking.

She glanced in the mirror, worried her look was too casual. Most of her on-site meetings in the past were _very_ casual, especially during actual construction and reno; she usually donned jeans and her trusty, worn-in work boots. Still, this didn't feel like a normal meeting, and she needed to create  _boundaries_ because she was pretty damn positive Bellamy wasn't about to. So she tucked in her shirt and pulled her hair into a low bun, looking every bit business casual — keyword  _business._

Clarke was always punctual, but even after stalling for what felt like forever, she still arrived to the property a good fifteen minutes early. As she pulled up the long, winding drive to the house, she saw what she assumed was Bellamy's truck and pulled her own little SUV into the spot next to it. She got out and surveyed the grounds.

The house, a large, dark-stained wood and stone lodge, was built on the side of what could almost be a small bluff. and Clarke knew from her many runs through the property that the house had a beautiful three story atrium in the back that overlooked a small lake fed by a stream, an outcrop from the larger river just a few miles away. There was a detached garage with what appeared to be living space above it, as well as a three-car attached garage, in front of which her car and Bellamy's were currently parked.

Although his truck was there, she didn't see any sign of the homeowner himself. Suddenly, she heard a giant thud, and spun around to the outer garage. Bellamy appeared, seemingly in the process of hauling lumber from somewhere behind the garage. A heavy carpenter's belt sagged around his waist, and her body reacted none too subtly at the sliver of skin that showed as he lifted the heap into the back of a trailer parked in front of the garage. The skin of his forearms was stretched tight across the muscle, tendons and veins protruding out as he tossed more lumber into the trailer. His white t-shirt was dirty with dust and sweat, and Clarke could _smell_ him, good God.

He noticed her when he turned around, and she waited by her car, trying not to so obviously devour him with her eyes as he strolled over to her.

"Morning," He gave her a lopsided smile that made her stomach flip.

She blinked rapidly, trying to steal herself against his charms. "Good morning. Hard at work, already?"

"Yep. Couldn't sleep, I guess," He said with a shrug, scratching the back of his neck while slyly eyeing her from head to toe.

"Me too," She admitted, surprised at herself, and his smile turned brighter.

He nodded towards the house behind her. "Shall we?"

She nodded, and he led the way to the front porch. She kept her gaze trained on the surroundings and house itself, denying herself the pleasure of watching the muscles of his back worth beneath his shirt.

Before he walked up the front steps, she stopped him with a small brush of her hand across his arm. His skin was hot to the touch, and the question that had been on the tip of her tongue vanished when he turned abruptly, bringing her face just inches from his broad chest. She tried to quickly back up a step, stumbling a little in her haste. Bellamy reached out an arm as if to steady her, but she'd backed up far enough away that he couldn't quite reach.

She took a deep breath. She was _Clarke Griffin,_ for God's sake. She was cool, calm and collected. She was  _professional._ So she turned towards the house with a wave of her hand. "Do you want to just start out here?"

He looked at her blankly, as if he didn't understand the meaning of the question, so she clarified.

"I mean, do you have any plans for the exterior of the house?"

He exhaled forcefully. "Oh. Um…" He shook his head in an animal-like gesture, like he was freeing it from something. Clarke took advantage of his pause to step around him and onto the porch extending the space between them. She reached into her bag for her note pad and glanced back to the house before continuing. "Depending on the degree of renovation to the interior, there probably won't be any changes needed to these outside walls. Is the traditional wood siding what you want, or do you want something more natural, like stone?"

His voice was close by again when he answered, and she forced herself not to react physically.

"I hadn't really thought about the exterior, yet. I'd like to keep the stone and as much of the original structure as possible, but I suppose it should be updated as well."

Clarke was already jotting down ideas for power-washing the stone and re-staining the wood siding before he finished talking. She didn't want to admit it, but she was pleased with his answer. The wood and stone added to the ski-lodge feel of the house, and she would have been disappointed to make any drastic changes.

Bellamy led her inside through the front double-doors. A low-ceilinged foyer was flanked by two rooms, a large, wood-paneled dining room to the right, and what Bellamy referred to as a "multi-purpose room, I guess" to the left. They stepped further into the house, and the foyer opened into a large, two-story living area with dark exposed support beams running across the vaulted ceiling. The atrium was just as breathtaking inside as it appeared from the outside, and it truly was three stories tall, lined by a set of stairs leading into what Clarke could tell was a walk-out basement.

"So here's the living room. Those stairs lead to the basement, which is drywalled but not floored. I don't really have any current plans for that space either. This is a catch-all space, of sorts. We spent a lot of time here, for pack meetings or eating or relaxing."

Clarke could see why. The living room was large and flowed directly into a giant kitchen, where she caught glimpses of outdated cabinets and laminate countertops. Second to the atrium, the most magnificent piece of the house had to be the fireplace. Stone matching the exterior of the house led all the way up to the ceiling, and it was hard to determine what the focal point of the room was exactly, with the fireplace and atrium competing for dominance. The house itself was breathtaking, but she could see now the outdated style that Bellamy was desperate to be rid of.

"Here's my main issue, currently," Bellamy said, waving her over to double doors adjacent to the fireplace. 

Inside was a spacious room with only a single mattress on the floor in the center of it. 

"This is the master, as you can see, right off the living room. My parents rarely got a moment of peace, being so close to all the action. So I'd like something more private for myself. Maybe upstairs? If it's doable."

Clarke nodded, taking notes, but a small part of her was stuck on the idea of this place constantly bustling. What had it been like for him, growing up surrounded by so many of his own kind? She closed her eyes and imagined running with other wolves, with parents and siblings and a  _pack._ He probably never questioned what he was,  _who_ he was, and she felt ugly envy flare up at the idea.

"What are you looking for, in the master bedroom?" She asked, priding herself on her professionalism. "So we can see the relocation is possible."

He glanced around the nearly empty room, scratching the back of his neck again before answering. "Well, I guess I don't really know what I want. A place to sleep, a place to shower, you know – the basics."

She wanted to roll her eyes at him, but didn't, opting for asking a surly question instead. "So like a bachelor pad….?"

He laughed lightly. "No, probably not." He scratched his stubbly chin in deliberation then mumbled to himself, "My future mate probably wouldn't be crazy about that."

The idea of him cozied up with some _bitch_ in a house she'd designed instantly raised her hackles and threw her into a jealousy fueled rage. She had to forcibly take a deep breath, and remind herself he was single and this 'mate' person didn't even exist. Maybe. Not that it even mattered because he was a  _stranger_ for Christ's sake.

"Well, we can get more details later," She managed to clip out before turning on her heel and heading back towards the rest of the house she had yet to see. By the time they'd made it to the stairs she'd cooled off a bit from her near-psychotic break. She reached up to straighten her bun, reassuring herself that Bellamy didn't seem to notice it had even happened.

Upstairs, there were four bedrooms and two bathrooms on each side of the lofted walkway. In one, he stopped her with a gentle touch to her elbow. "I also think a suite for my beta would be ideal as well. That way they can get away from the rest of the pack if they wish."

"How many...  _pack_ members are going to be living here?" She asked, the word  _pack_ feeling strange in her mouth when she was referring to  _actual_ werewolves.

"About ten or so, depending," He said, then looked her up and down and smiled. "Actually, this is so great. I could never be this honest about what I want with a human architect."

There it was, then. The implication that she wasn'thuman. Obviously, she'd always known, considering she can turn into a  _wolf._ But still, she has never admitted to herself that she was anything other than human.

She shook off the strange feeling — _be p_ _rofessional,_ she chided. If she wasn't fully human, then she could ask questions that a human wouldn't ask. "So... these pack members. Are they... single, like you? Or are they families?"

He smiled again. "Well, I don't plan on being single  _forever._ Eventually, I'll start a family. And my pack members may have families or be single. I'm an equal opportunity alpha."

Then, he  _winked_ at her.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. "You mean, you don't know for sure who's going to be living here?"

Didn't he have his own pack already?

"Nope," He said easily. "Just hoping someone will want to eventually."

He continued to lead her around the house and she peppered him with questions, trying to get more detail on what kind of style he preferred. He was very open with her and didn't at all seem to catch on that she didn't exactly know everything he meant when he started in on _pack meetings_ and _ceremony dinners_. She just sat at the kitchen bar and tried to ask intelligent questions related to the design elements. She thought by the end she had a good picture in her head of what he envisioned his _alpha house_ to be.

Unfortunately, amidst her increasing excitement of working on this new project, the small seed of envy that she'd been fighting all day was growing exponentially every time he causally mentioned his future family and pack. It was beginning to be difficult to ignore.

"Well," She said when she couldn't stand listening to him talk about starting a family for one more second. "I think I have enough information to start a schematic design. It will be more of a conceptual plan based on the ideas we discussed today. If you approve of it we can delve into greater architectural detail, materials, and building systems….."

She trailed off at the complete silence on his end and found he was staring at her. The sun outside was low in the sky, signaling late afternoon; she'd been here for _hours_. He probably had other things to do than entertain her in his uninhabitable house in the middle of the woods. She scribbled down a few final notes and packed her bag up, ready to leave.

"We should go run."

"Run?" She repeated the word dumbly. Then, realization dawned on her. Oh.  _Oh._ He wanted to  _run?_ With  _her_ _?_

He flashed a handsome, confident smile. "Yeah, run. I can show you the boundaries of the property."

He waved his hand in a vague gesture towards the woods surrounding the home. "Count it as part of your research for the brief."

Clarke stared at him, wordless while Bellamy observed her, completely blasé about the prospect of them running as wolves together. To her it seemed so….intimate.

He nodded towards the door, shifting his stance forward in an impatient gesture at her silence. "Come on. I'll pay you overtime."

"You don't pay me by the hour, Mr. Blake," She replied, trying to maintain her unruffled _professional_ demeanor.

His expression flashed into something akin to annoyance, making his jaw clench and his eyes turn steely.

He leaned forward onto the bar where she sat, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him.

"Bellamy. Call me Bellamy."

It was not a request, nor polite, and Clarke quickly became just as irritated at him as he was at her. She stared at him unflinchingly, her mouth set in defiance.

"Go on — say it," He insisted.

Pursing her lips in irritation at his demanding tone, she snapped, "Has anyone ever told you how bossy you are?"

His eyes widened in surprise, and then he laughed out loud, his tense body relaxing as his head rocked back. It was a loud, contagious laugh that made her lips twitch as she tried to remain serious.

"Honestly, no." He shrugged apologetically while she glowered, laughter still dancing in his eyes. "I'm an alpha, Princess. It comes with the territory."

Clarke's stomach clenched at the pet name he used for her, but then she chided herself. _Get a grip_. He probably called all women that. Focusing again, she thought about his words. He was an alpha, but so was she... in her own way. If he was an alpha, why didn't he already have a pack? She had so many questions for him; like searching for more knowledge of how packs worked, since today it had been painfully clear that she was completely clueless.

"So," She said carefully. "You're an alpha... But you don't have a pack?"

"Well, I  _have_ a pack, but it's technically my father's."

"Are you an alpha because he is?"

"Not exactly. Being an alpha isn't genetic, and you're really only an alpha if you lead the pack."

"So you're  _not_ an alpha," She said, unable to hide her smirk. "If your father is."

He rolled his eyes and grinned ruefully. "I mean,  _no,_ technically speaking, but... I'm leaving the pack to start my own."

She was about to ask why, but something in his expression shifted and she suddenly felt wrong asking. Instead, she asked, "How big is your pack?"

"There are about fifty of us."

Her jaw practically hit the floor.  _Fifty._ _Fifty_ other people like  _her._

"We're one of the bigger packs in North America, but it's pretty typical size of Canada," He added, but then stopped talking when he noticed her shocked expression. "You had no idea...?"

"No," She flushed, embarrassed and looked down at her hands. He must have thought her completely pathetic. "I thought... I didn't know there were so many of... _us_."

"Hey," He said, reaching a hand across the counter to rest on her notebook, not quite touching her. When she looked up at him, it wasn't pity in his eyes like she expected, but something else — something unreadable. "You're not alone."

He said it so sincerely, so tenderly, she wanted to cry. But she was professional, so she leaned back, pushing away from the counter. "I'll have the prelim design ready in about a week, I think."

"Clarke," He said.

"I can email you updates or questions as I go along," She continued, ignoring the way his face had gone soft. 

"Clarke," He said again, gentler this time. She finally looked up at him, and found his eyes were heavy with concern. "Did I... Did I say something wrong?"

"No," She insisted quickly. "I just think — I mean, maybe it's best if we stick to discussing the project and try not to be friends, or something."

He pressed a hand to his chest mockingly. "You don't want to be my friend?"

She bit back a smile. "I mean, I don't think it's a good idea."

He rounded the counter slowly, stalking her. "I think it's a great idea. _I_ think we could be  _great_ friends."

She huffed, her resolve slowing slipping away with each step closer he got to her. "What — what would we do if we ran together?"

His face lit up. "Whatever we want."

"So it's just you and me?"

He laughed. "Clarke, you act like you've never run with someone before."

Her cheeks burned, and his jaw dropped. "Oh my god, you can't be serious. _Ever?_ "

"Ever," She said, clipped.

"But it's in our nature, to be social and  _run_ and  _play._ I'm sorry, I just can't believe—"

"Well, believe it," She snapped. "My parents are  _human._ "

"Okay, but you realize they're not actually your parents, right? Two humans can't conceive a werewolf—"

She scoffed. "Yes, I think I figured that out the moment I turned into a  _goddamn_ _wolf._ Look, I think we've hashed out more than enough of my pathetic upbringing, so I'm going to go now."

" _Clarke,_ " He made to reach for her, but she dodged his advances and rushed toward the front door.

"Like I said, I'll email you," She tossed over her shoulder, and slammed the front door on his apologies and protests.

When she got home, she immediately stripped off all her clothes, longing for the inner peace her wolf brought, wanting to just turn everything  _off._ She left her clothes on the kitchen floor and the dogs in the living room and  _bolted._

She honestly didn't even know where she was going, just turned off her thoughts and let her wolf lead the way. Apparently, though, her wolf had ideas of her own.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still in shock that people are actually reading this. THANK YOU GUYS, seriously. <3

_**Bellamy** _

 

Disappointed. _Bam!_ The handle of the sledgehammer reverberated back through Bellamy's hands from the force of the blow he dealt to the bathroom cabinet.

Also good were: Discouraged. _Bam!_ Frustrated. _Bam!_ And horny. _Bam!_ Each emotion he ticked off was punctuated with a loud, satisfying bang, splinters and chips of wood flying across the small upstairs bathroom.

An objective observer might think he seemed pissed off, which was definitely true for his wolf, who at the moment couldn't believe how on goddess's green earth he had managed to so royally fucked this up.

They had been _so close_. All day, they'd spent with her, slowly teasing out sweet smiles and curious gazes. For hours, they'd devoured the sight and sounds of her. Like her fresh, clean scent this morning as she stepped from her jeep. And the way her green, fitted pants hugged her ample curves in that perfect way. Or the distracting way she chewed on the fingernail of her thumb while deep in thought. Or how she would pull out her bun just to redo it exactly the same way at least once an hour.

He'd thought he was being so good, too. On his best behavior, even. Not pushing, not crowding, and doing a helluva job of holding his wolf in check. It wasn't like him to be so patient, but with Clarke, everything was different. He realized now _why_ it was so different.

Part of the problem was his ego. He'd obviously gone for too long thinking he was hot shit because he was a top dog in a large pack. Even the concept of having to court someone was new to him. For most of his life, every young, available woman in his pack knew who he was and his status. So if word got out he was interested in someone serious, they'd be knocking down his door before the gossip had fully made its rounds.

As a young wolf he had learned this lesson the hard way. As he matured, it became his rule to not encourage any kind of affection shown to him by a wolf he didn't intend to mate. Even so, there had always been someone willing to warm his bed without whispered promises from him.

Clarke was the opposite of willing. She was so reserved that it was a struggle for her to even call him by his first name, for fuck's sake.

_Bam! Bam! Bam!_

It wasn't that he thought that he was God's gift to women or anything but he was a pretty good catch. Or so he'd thought. Now that he'd made his intentions clear that he would not ascend to alpha of the Polis pack, a few women he'd thought had been true friends, who he had treated almost like sisters, had all but deserted him. All they had wanted was a chance at the rank – to be top bitch.

Clarke obviously had no desire for or even knowledge of the power struggle in a pack, which he would normally be grateful for. However, for the first time, it put him at a disadvantage because he couldn't use his status to help win her over.

Bellamy slumped down onto the bathroom floor with a thud, having thoroughly destroyed all the cabinets and counter tops in the near vicinity.

He banged his head on the wall behind him, realizing what an utter asshole he'd been all day. He had practically rubbed it in her face – his pack, his family and friends, all the things he'd been given freely that she'd never had.

Could he seriously be the only other werewolf she'd ever met? The thought made his heart ache in ways he'd never felt before. He'd obviously embarrassed her with his absolute incredulity of her situation – his skepticism of her entire existence. He couldn't blame her for walking out on him. He just wished he could find a way to fix it.

He grudgingly got back up, starting work on righting the giant mess he'd made by hauling scraps of wood and granite out to the shop's dumpster. It felt better to do something than to just sit there and wallow in his self-loathing.

As he worked, he began to sort through all of Clarke's little quirks that he hadn't entirely processed until now. She had been so afraid of him at first, yet completely un-submissive. It was a strange combination that had left him puzzled. She had definitely seemed a little lost a few times today, and that glassy look would come into her eyes when he would propose something about pack dynamics and how it might fit into the new house design. God, he was so _stupid_.

Not to mention the fact that her father was a human. It wasn't completely unheard of for a wolf to mate with a human. But he had thought perhaps her mother had been forced out of a hostile pack - either while pregnant or with her small child. That maybe she had wound up finding someone to support them outside their lycan culture. It wasn't very likely but possible.

But an orphan adopted by humans was unprecedented.

A wave of helpless protectiveness washed over him at the thought of her as a beautiful young pup, abandoned and alone. No one to teach her or even properly care for her, to ever explain the amazing creature that she would one day become.

It was a wonder she hadn't gone insane. He tried to imagine himself at that age and how scary and helpless he would have felt had he not been raised in such a tight knit group of wolves. They had all done so much to smooth the rough track of his adolescence. He had never felt such gratitude and guilt for his own parents before.

He considered calling his mother to ask her if she'd heard of something like this before, but just the idea of her bombarding him with questions about Clarke immediately squashed that inspiration. He had some bizarre desire to keep Clarke a secret for now - his wolf's possessiveness winning out over thinking rationally about the situation.

Plus, his mother would probably start in again about the amount of time he was spending up north, and frankly, he just didn't want to hear it right now.

As Bellamy bent down to the floor of the shop to retrieve a broken knob to add to the trash pile when his cell phone rang.

Octavia's name flashed on the screen, and in his sour mood, he considered ignoring her call. However, he knew it'd been several days since he'd spoken to her, and he also knew she'd just continue calling him until he caved and picked up.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked a bit bitingly, lifting the phone to his ear.

A tinkling laugh. "And here I thought I'd have to call at  _least_ three more times."

Bellamy growled. "What do you want? I'm busy."

"Busy, how? Sulking still?"

He was not  _sulking._ At least, not for the reasons Octavia thought.

"No," He said defensively. "Just trying to figure out my next move, is all. I'm at the lake house."

"Ah, the _lake house._ Nathan said you're fixing the place up. Gonna be your new pack headquarters?"

"Don't start with me, O."

"Gonna have to make the announcement to the pack soon, Bell. Dad won't do it for you."

He huffed. "I don't understand why it's so urgent. We're talking  _years_ from now. It can wait."

As Octavia started in on him like she always did, a whiff of something electrifying caught his attention. He whipped his head around towards the south woods and quickly scanned the darkening forest, not even listening to Octavia anymore. There was barely any light now, but his eyes quickly adjusted to the twilight. 

Finally, he spotted her, a flash of white waiting just inside the tree line, a pair of shining eyes staring straight at him.

"I gotta go," He said, the words coming out jumbled and fast.

"What? Why?"

"Bye, O."

"Bell, what's wrong-"

He dropped his phone on the ground, his eyes glued to the white wolf sitting just fifty yards away from him. He didn't hesitate to strip off his shirt and belt. As he bent to pull off his boots, he kept looking back to the trees to make sure she didn't disappear. For one dreadful moment he couldn't see her, and in a moment of panic he started running and shifting, not caring about destroying his jeans in the process.

As soon as he was on four paws, his wolf whined in anxiety at the possibility of losing her, but when he made it to tree line he caught sight of her again sitting and silently waiting. _For him_.

All his anxiety and stress vanished as he approached her, the conversation with his sister already forgotten.

Clarke quickly stood at his arrival, backing up a few steps and eyeing him warily.

All he really wanted to do was tackle and nuzzle her and taste her, but the knowledge that she'd never been in a social situation with another friendly wolf held him back. Despite his excitement, he determined the best thing to do was to wait for her to come to him, to avoid scaring her with his aggressiveness.

And after what felt like an excruciatingly long time she did just that - cautiously moving towards him one step at a time, sniffing the air around him and keeping her body low to the ground. She stayed in his direct line of site, not taking her piercing blue eyes off his face as she bent her head to inquisitively smell his fur, his paws, his tail, never once touching him.

He shifted anxiously, whining at her to hurry up, anticipation getting the best of him, but she did not speed up her slow perusal of him. After making a full circle around him, she finally seemed to relax, settling back on her hindquarters just next to him and cocking her head at him.

He took it as an invitation for reciprocation and immediately came towards her, rubbing his cheek to hers and licking her face in his excitement. Her head ducked in shock and her ears lay down flat, her tail tucking in tangible fear that he could smell. His wolf hated that smell – hated the fact that she was afraid of him.

He waited a beat, but she didn't bare her teeth in aggression. The scent of fear slowly dissipated, so he continued running his nose down her sleek fur in pure delight. Without further protest from her, he sniffed and rubbed his head against her, finally pushing with enough power to shift her body and amazingly, she yielded to him. She lay over on her side and raised a leg to rest on him as he continued to inhale her perfect scent. He wanted to bury his head between her legs, but resisted with all his willpower.

After not quite long enough for him, she finally pushed him off with a strong coordinated kick of her back legs because he tried to get a little too frisky. He didn't have it in him to be sorry at the moment, so he stood there grinning, a satisfied look on his face and a long tongue hanging out the side of his muzzle.

They stood there a few moments staring at each other before he abruptly let out a yip and took off into the woods.

She only hesitated a second before following, quickly catching up to him and flanking him on his left side. She continued to follow him for a while, keeping up with him easily and in time becoming relaxed enough to make adorable little yips of excitement that reminded him of a pup.

They ran fast through their familiar woods, not slowing for several miles, and simply enjoyed each other's company. Their undeniable attraction to each other in this form was blatantly clear. He could see her from the corner of his eye, stealing looks at him and leaning her head close to smell him more than a few times.

She eventually became bold enough to sidle up to his side and bump his shoulder with hers. Her body was so small compared to his that he didn't even budge so she tried it again with more force. He obliged her and turned in the direction she wanted, but she apparently wasn't satisfied. She tried to take the lead, but he cut her off, nipping at her legs in chastisement. After several turns of exchanging the lead and tussling with each other he managed to jump her and bullied her into yielding to him. She took it all in fun and played with the unabashed joy and enthusiasm of a pup.

His wolf had yet to find a better place in this world than on top of this small, white wolf with his teeth at her neck and was hard pressed to give it up. But Bellamy knew better than to push his luck and would let her up after each time she willingly yielded. Each time she let him stay there just a little bit longer and each time he smelled less and less fear and more of something both he and his wolf craved like nothing before: her desire.

After several hours running and playing they found themselves at the foot of a small stream where a little pool had gathered, so Bellamy took the opportunity to rest while he watched Clarke play in the water.

She would run at it full steam and swing her paws wildly to splash him before jumping up in circles and biting the waves she made. He wondered if she would ever run out of steam, but then thought perhaps she was too enamored with the idea of a new playmate to want to stop and rest.

The notion that he had given her this gift – this unabashed joy because of their new friendship - gave him a sense of contentment unlike anything he'd felt before.

Not before they were both thoroughly soaked did she eventually calm, slowing down for no more than a moment to gnaw on his tail and try to rouse him into pouncing her again. It was quiet enough that he could take notice of the forest around them and he took interest in a scent he caught upwind. His stomach growled instinctively, and he suddenly remembered they hadn't eaten all day.

He moved to step over Clarke, using his powerful body to keep her still as he motioned towards the small game he intended to catch. She blinked up at him, understanding dawning in her eyes as her nose caught the scent. He moved off her, giving her a quick bite on the snout to stay put.

She watched him intently as he moved, studying his slow and silent crouch towards the small deer sipping water just upstream. He idly wondered if she had hunted much before; it would be difficult for her to take down any decent size prey on her own.

As he neared though, his stalking became evident and the small doe's head popped up to search his direction of the woods before it promptly galloped away in panic.

Bellamy was close enough now to give chase and deciding Clarke was safe enough for the time being, he pushed off with his powerful legs leaving her behind and gaining on their next meal quickly. He maintained a close distance behind and to the doe's right, trying to get a read on an opportunity to jump his prey. It was moving upstream and to the west, away from the clear path near the water. Its small body moved with ease between the trees and fallen branches - much easier than his larger form crashing loudly through the woods.

Just as he had determined that he might not get an opportunity before the damn thing got away, a flash of white out of the corner of his eye spooked the deer. It took a hard turn directly into his path and he leapt automatically, sharp claws and strong teeth catching the hide of the doe's back effectively bringing it down. He ended its life quickly with a powerful bite to the jugular, before looking up at his companion in approval. Clarke had helped him hunt.

She was fast. And strong. And smart. _She would make an excellent mate._

Bellamy was too hungry to think about this further, his nose too focused on the fresh meat in front of him to dwell on that assessment from his wolf.

Clarke was still waiting a few feet away, not making any move to partake in their prize. It was instinct for her to wait for the alpha to eat, but only after she had her fill would he take his. Bellamy's wolf was too far gone over her already, treating her as he would his mate. He grumbled at her to come take her share, but she didn't budge - just cocked her head at him in confusion.

After several minutes of squabbling, he finally had to drag the damn carcass over to her before she would even look at it. He continued to give her more encouragement, butting his head against her body before at last she gave in and ate eagerly, obviously famished from their long day. He took his turn after she was done, and she thanked him for the meal by butting his side with her cute little head as he ate.

After the meal, he discovered that in fact Clarke  _could_ run out of steam because in her post-meal haze, she snuggled up to his side and promptly fell asleep. As she dozed, he stroked her fur lazily with his tongue, his wolf immensely proud of himself for filling her belly and satisfying his mate.

She was so different as a wolf, yet the same. She still maintained some of that reserve that was so clear in her human side, but instead of it coming off as indifference, he saw it as a sweet shyness in her wolf. It seemed to be easier for her to let go of that cold façade in this form and show an endearing tenderness that he knew must be there all the time; she must have just learned to disguise that part of herself as some sort of self-protection. Well, she had him for protection now.

The steel resolve of his wolf to claim her only added fuel to the war raging inside him. It was too much too soon, and not just for him. He knew she wouldn't understand it either, might not even fully realize the consequences of his claiming her. For both of their sakes, he would have to tamp down the instincts of his inner beast before it got carried away.

He needed more time – to show her who he was and what it would mean to be with him and part of a pack before he took any other choice away from her.

Because ultimately he wanted her to choose him as well. And she couldn't do that if he marked her as his without her permission or understanding. Without her ever even _meeting_ another wolf.

The very idea was repulsive to both sides of him - that he would willingly push her off into someone else's arms just to see if she stuck? Anger rose up in him and he licked and nibbled on the nape of Clarke's neck in his anxiety, reminding himself that she was still here, with him.

This was going to be much harder than he thought.

After Clarke woke, Bellamy was calm and determined to do the right thing despite his raging hormones. Although what the right thing actually was sometimes shifted when exposed in a different light.

In his fondness, he let her lead him to the edge of her property. They stood side by side for a moment in silence, and Bellamy had to admit he didn't want her to go. 

Clarke, seemingly sensing his unease, sweetly licked his face.

He was sure if he'd been human at the moment, his shock would be plain and visible on his face as she loped up the stairs of her small cabin.

She waited there for just a beat before shifting back. Her naked skin glowed, and her halo of wild hair shimmered in the moonlight. The beautiful curve of her breast was just visible in profile before it swooped down to the arc of her small waist and flared out again into hips and the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

Then she disappeared into the shadows of her porch. But that image would remain burned in his memory for weeks, reminding him of what he was waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got to write in Octavia, who will always be my favorite badass warrior babe. Can't wait for you guys to meet badass warrior werewolf babe. UGH. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated to fuel this on-fire garbage can.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay.... y'all have me S H O O K with the responses to this story. I read every comment with a big stupid grin on my face. I'm so happy I get to pull other people down into this metaphorical trashcan, like crabs in a barrel :')
> 
> Warning: this is super unedited. I wanted to update so fast that I only read through this twice lol.

**_Bellamy_ **

  

He woke up in a tangled mess of dirty sheets and blinked at the bright daylight streaming into his room, trying to call back the dream that had flitted away just moments ago. It had been of Clarke, of course. She was all he dreamed of anymore, except it was worse last night. Now he had that image of her, flawlessly naked in the moonlight, and so instead of stepping into the shadows away from him she had turned and wagged her finger, beckoning him to come to her.

He groaned and scrubbed a hand roughly down his face, torn between wanting to fall back asleep to finish the dream and dealing with the impressive morning wood he was sporting. It was 8:00AM, and if he gave in and took care of himself, it would be too tempting to do it again. He was an  _adult,_ for Christ's sake. He absolutely could  _not_ spend half the day jacking off.

 _Well, you_ _could_ _..._ His wolf grumbled. Especially considering how often he thought about Clarke and her lithe body beneath his, moving together in a rhythm as old as time, losing himself in the velvet heat of her-

"Oh, for fuck's sake," He said aloud to no one in particular, throwing the sheets to the side and glaring at his cock. He hadn't lived with such a raging hard-on for this long since he'd been eleven and discovered women were  _naked_ after they shifted. 

Sitting up, he became conscious of the fact he hadn't bothered to shower before flinging himself into bed last night, exhausted. His feet were still covered in dirt and mud; there was grass in his hair and deer blood smeared across his face and hands. But he'd slept more soundly than he had in months.

He rolled out of bed and strolled naked to the kitchen to try and scrounge something to eat from his bare cupboards. All he found was coffee and some stale cereal. He brewed himself a strong cup and ate Cheerios straight from the box, dry. An absolutely pathetic breakfast, but it was what he deserved, after all his perverted thoughts about Clarke.

After choking down dry cereal, he reluctantly considered a shower. He had to admit he didn't relish the idea of washing off Clarke's scent, but the deer blood had to go. It might make the few humans he ran into today uncomfortable.

He planned on finishing the demolition of a few more bathrooms, but he had also wanted to start on a project he'd been mulling over since his first glimpse of Clarke's work on the renovated log cabin. She had briefly mentioned yesterday that a formal dining room wouldn't fit with the unfussy character of the house and suggested an eat-in kitchen with a bar and a large community table.

Bellamy recalled being contacted several times by a logging business about whether his company was interested in salvaging trees brought down at their job sites or by forest companies. He had been sincerely interested but just hadn't had the time to do anything about it.

His vision was to take one of those reclaimed trees and mill it into massive slabs. Then he could dry and finish one into a solitary board and _voila_ – a colossal table. He knew he could make it beautiful. The natural edges of the wood grain would give the table an almost sculptural quality. He thought Clarke would like it – the reclaimed wood especially but also the natural simplicity of it.

He wanted to call and ask her opinion. Actually, he just wanted to call and hear her voice, but this was a credible excuse.

Shower first. Then Clarke. At least he had real hot water to look forward to now. He had managed to fix the water heater last weekend, in addition to finding his soul mate. A real productive weekend, if he was honest. After doing a few more chores around the house like stripping the filthy sheets from his bed, he finally gave in to the wolf pacing in the back of his mind waiting to hear her voice.

"Hello?" An unfamiliar woman answered, and Bellamy glanced at the screen to make sure he had dialed the right person.

"Uh, Hi. I was calling for Clarke?"

"Oh. May I ask who's calling?" The woman sounded pleasantly surprised.

"This is Bellamy." He cleared his throat. "Bellamy Blake."

"She just stepped into the kitchen. Just a moment."

There were some shuffling noises and a muffled voice before he could make out Clarke in the background.

"…. you answered my phone?"

The other woman started speaking hastily, her pitch rising as she continued and her questions running together. "Well, you left it on the table and I was just sitting there. It's a man – he says his name is Bellamy? Why is a strange man calling you on Saturday afternoon? What happened to the other one? I can't keep track of your boyfriends-"

"Oh my god, _Mom-_ "

Bellamy bit back a laugh as there was more shuffling before Clarke answered in that cool, detached voice he'd come to hate.

"Mr. Blake."

Bellamy sighed – back to formalities. He'd thought that they made a lot of progress as friends last night, but apparently he'd dreamt it all.

"Clarke," He said, wincing at the disappointment so evident in his tone. "I'm sorry to interrupt if this is a bad time. I can call back later."

Her voice softened a little, if he wasn't mistaken. "No, no. It's fine."

She continued without waiting for him. "I actually wanted to speak to you. I realized this morning we never looked at the outbuilding, and there are no plans for it in the documents you dropped off."

He'd hoped that their relationship had moved on from an unfeeling business deal to something more, but the conversation quickly quashed those feelings. She only spoke of the house or plans for meeting and nothing more. No sweet, excitable little wolf to be found; she had disappeared back inside the resilient, composed woman on the other line.

He half-heartedly arranged to drop off the key to the house at Collins Construction on his way out of town the next day since she had plans for the afternoon and couldn't meet with him. This way she could look at the outbuilding and get measurements for the blueprints while he was away this week, and they wouldn't lose any time on the project.

His heart felt a little wrecked by the end, and they hung up with an awkward, cordial goodbye.

He immediately got to work on the house, pushing the whole depressing incident out of his brain and focusing on the physical work. He spent a hard day working with his hands and body to avoid the dejected wolf sulking at the back of his mind.

It was actually nice to finally finish removing the old fixtures and cabinets from the house - cleansing in a way. After so many weeks of blindly working, he was suddenly surprised by the difference it made. He walked through the halls with a fresh perspective. The floors were now bare of any carpet. No more brass finishings on the doors and fittings. No more old-fashioned oak cabinets. It was a clean slate now and he could rebuild it. He was ready to begin something new here.

He numbly registered his phone buzzing on the kitchen counter indicating he'd received a message but it was probably just his sister. Or maybe Nathan sending him some stupid picture.

He pulled a cold beer from the fridge and popped the top off before leaning against the kitchen bar to watch the sun sink from the sky. He briefly considered running again, even as tired as he was. It was strange how much more he craved it now, out here in this isolation. In the city, he had gone weeks without changing before but he felt more wild here – the pull of the moon much stronger. That or his wolf had more steam to run off – he'd ignored the broody animal most of the day.

His phone buzzed yet again, the loud vibration against the hard counter pulling him back to reality and he reached over to find out who was hassling him.

Bellamy heart lifted at the unexpected pop up on his phone:

 **Text Message** from **Clarke Griffin.**

He almost dropped his phone in his haste to open the message.

 **Clarke Griffin:** _I'm sorry about earlier. My mom doesn't seem to understand privacy._

He reviewed their earlier conversation in a new light, imagining his own mother listening in while he spoke to Clarke. He certainly wouldn't call her nicknames or give any indication that she was something other than a colleague. Not because he was embarrassed of her – just for the barrage of questions he could avoid. The hope that had been formerly crushed came flooding back at the revelation; she didn't hate him after all.

As he held the phone, contemplating the most recent turn of events it buzzed again in his hand.

 **Clarke Griffin:** _Also, I never got the chance to say thank you. So... thanks._

He typed back, confusion and anticipation at her unexpected thanks causing his pulse rate to spike.

 **Bellamy Blake:** _For what exactly?_

 **Clarke Griffin:** _For taking me running. It was... incredible._

Bellamy smiled like a fool.  _Incredible._

 **Bellamy Blake:** _Yeah, it was. I'd like to do it again._

She was silent for a moment while he waited impatiently for her to answer, tapping his foot against the tiled floor of the kitchen as the three little dots on the screen disappeared and reappeared several times.

 **Clarke Griffin:** _Me too._

His cheeks hurt from the stretch of his grin. He started to write 'tonight **?** ' but realized how pushy and possibly overeager it sounded. His wolf wanted to be with her again so badly.  _Let's not make her think we're stalking her_ , he chastised the animal.  _Play it cool._

 **Bellamy Blake:** _When?_

After more dots, she replied.

 **Clarke Griffin:** _Next week?_ _When you're back?_

Bellamy felt disappointment flare up in his stomach. He would have to wait a whole week. _But_ she wanted to see him again. That was something, at least.

 **Bellamy Blake:** _Sounds like a plan._

After a few quiet minutes he was beginning to think their impromptu conversation was over, and he wracked his brain for something, anything to say to prolong it when his phone vibrated in his hand.

 **Clarke Griffin:** _I'm sorry if I seemed a little brash last night_

_It was my first time to run with anyone so I was a bit excited_

He was beginning to like this open, honest side of Clarke she was divulging via text message.

 **Bellamy Blake:** _No, you were perfect_

He could imagine the color flooding her cheeks, but he sincerely meant it as images from the night before flashed in his mind. After a moment, his phone buzzed.

 **Clarke Griffin:** _So were you_

Bellamy's heart tightened in his chest. He gripped his phone hard, reading and rereading her reply in surprise.

 **Clarke Griffin:** _Goodnight Mr. Blake_

The formal title didn't aggravate him in the least this time. He knew she said it to tease him, so he actually rather liked it now.

 **Bellamy Blake:** _Good night princess. Sweet dreams_

Bellamy knew what he would be dreaming about. The same thing he had since the day he'd met this beguiling new wolf.

On Monday, Bellamy managed to pack what little clothes he had at the lake house into a bag, throw it and the rest of his travel stuff onto the bench seat of his work truck,  _and_ talk on the phone simultaneously. He was nothing if not productive. "Can you bring it by the shop in Polis, then?" 

"Not to Arkadia?"

"No, I can't work on it here. I'm leaving now and will be there in a couple hours if you can meet me."

There was another pause as the man on the other end of the phone arranged to deliver a Western big leaf maple that had fallen in a recent storm. This particular tree was sought after for its exceptional color and figure.

"Right. See you then. Thanks."

Bellamy hung up and immediately dialed Nathan Miller, his best friend and soon-to-be beta. He was going to need help finding a place for the log at the shop. After about ten rings Miller finally answered.

"Hello?" He rasped out.

"Somebody sounds like they had a rough night," Bellamy sang.

"It's the butt-fucking crack of dawn on Sunday, Blake. What do you want?"

"It's Monday, Miller."

Miller groaned. "What do you want?"

Bellamy laughed. "I need you. Dan is bringing over a fallen tree and I have to get it in the shop. I'd like to start getting it prepped to dry – that is if you can get your ass up."

Miller let loose a half groan/half growl, but Bellamy knew he wouldn't say no. It was just the way they were with each other. He could hear the sound of sheets rustling and then a masculine voice murmur in the background.

"Is that Bryan?" Bellamy asked, getting ready to tease the crap out of his friend.

"Uh, no," Miller said, sounding nervous. In a hushed tone, clearly meant for Bellamy  _not_ to hear, "Well, I'm not going to  _lie,_ Monty. Who cares? He was bound to find out eventually."

"Monty?" Bellamy couldn't hide his surprise. "You're with  _Monty?_ "

There was shuffling and muffled tones and then a meek, "Hey, Bellamy," from Monty and, "Surprise," from Miller.

"Well, great," Bellamy said. "You can both meet me at the shop then."

He laughed as the two men groaned. "See you in a few hours."

After he hung up, he drove to Collins Construction, where he promised he'd leave a key for Clarke. He didn't know  _why_ he couldn't just drop it off at her office, but he'd admit he _has_ been curious about the local construction company that the Griffins worked so closely with. 

He swung the door open to the small office and came face-to-face with a guy he instantly decided to dislike.

"Hey," The guy said, barely looking up from his clipboard. "Be with you in just a sec."

"Take your time," Bellamy ground out. Where had he seen this guy before and  _why_ did he want to punch him in the face?

The man looked up, smiling, but that grin quickly disappeared. "Hey, I remember you. Think I met you at the Griffin firm last week."

Bellamy wracked his brain for a moment and then remembered. Last week, when he'd idiotically invited Clarke to dinner and she'd completely blown him off. And for what?  _This guy?_

"Finn Collins," He jutted out a hand, smiling once again.

"Bellamy Blake," He replied, ignoring the outstretched hand just as he had last week.

"Uh, you're working with Clarke on that old lake house north of town aren't you? Saw the blueprints for the place yesterday at Clarke's. Thing's a doozy."

He'd been at Clarke's  _house?_

 _Punch him,_ his wolf snarled, wild with jealousy. 

"Yeah," Bellamy managed to say, ignoring the irrational rage warring inside him. He needed to get a  _grip._ "I actually came by to drop off a key. I thought Clarke would be here, but..."

"Oh, yeah," Finn said, jumping to attention. "She told me I should expect you. Man, I feel like an idiot," He laughed. 

 _You are,_ Bellamy's wolf growled.

Finn continued. "But yeah, she's not here. You can just leave it with me though. I'll get it to her tomorrow."

"Actually, I'd feel a lot better leaving it with Clarke." Bellamy wasn't sure what made him say the words, but he couldn't stop. "Or a higher-up. You have a supervisor or a manager around here I can speak to?"

Instantly, Finn's expression shifted, the friendly demeanor gone. "This is my family's business," He said tightly. "I am the higher-up."

"Is your father around, perhaps?" Bellamy hated himself for saying the words he'd groan to resent so much. How often had he heard the exact same question, directed at him, often delivered with the same amount of malice and disrespect? 

"Do you have a problem, buddy?" Finn stepped forward.

His wolf practically yipped with glee at the first sign of an impending fight.It would be so easy, he realized as they stood toe-to-toe. Finn was a good head shorter than he was, and even if he was in decent shape from the construction business, he didn't stand a chance. 

"Not at all,  _buddy,_ " Bellamy growled, low and feral in the voice that he never, ever used with humans. 

Finn backed up a step, clearly surprised at Bellamy's tone. Both men startled, however, when the office door swung open, and an older man, the spitting image of Finn, stepped inside.

"Oh, hello," He chirped, oblivious to the tense atmosphere. "Didn't know we had a guest. I'm Tim Collins."

Bellamy instantly turned on a 100-watt smile and shook the man's hand. "Bellamy Blake. Pleasure to meet you."

"Ah, are you related to Rhys Blake down in Polis?"

"He's my father, sir."

"I'll be damned. Haven't seen him in ages. I've seen some mighty fine work come from your father's company. You in the business?"

"Yes, sir, carpenter like my father. In fact, I'm renovating our family's lake house north of town with help from Griffin Architecture. I actually came by because Miss. Griffin requested I leave her a key while I'm out of town."

"Oh, wonderful. The Griffins have been long-time friends of ours. Leave the key with me, and I'll make sure Clarke gets it."

Bellamy smirked at Finn, who'd been glowering at him throughout the entire conversation, and dropped the key into Tim Collins' outstretched hand. "Thank you so much for your help, Mr. Collins. Happy to leave it in _trusted_ hands."

"Please, call me Tim. You tell your father I say hi, all right?"

"Will do, sir. Thanks again."

He mock-saluted Finn and left the office, feeling satisfied.

In the car though, his confidence slowly dissipated into embarrassment. He'd been such an irrational  _ass._ And for what? Because he'd been a  _little_ jealous of Finn Collins for _knowing_ Clarke? Bellamy was _always_ rational, and he rarely lost his cool, especially over something as ridiculous as testosterone. But somehow, rationality seemed to fly out the window when it came to Clarke.

The drive back to Polis was always longer than he anticipated, so he had plenty of time to kick himself mentally for being such an idiot.

His cell phone vibrated, cutting through his self-loathing.

 **Incoming Call** from  **Clarke Griffin**

His spirits quickly lifted and he answered quickly. "Hello, Princess."

"Don't you  _princess_ me, Mr. Blake," She snapped, sounding near-hostile.

He would have laughed at her newfound sass if he wasn't so confused. "Uh, is something wrong?"

Clarke scoffed. "Only that you  _insulted_ my friend and colleague when all I asked for was a simple favor!"

"What?"

"Finn told me how you asked to see a  _higher-up_  because you didn't trust him with the key.Are you kidding?"

He felt himself get defensive. "Well, maybe I didn't. Trust him, that is."

"Oh, so you must not trust me either, then."

Bellamy's mind was racing to catch up. How had it escalated to this?

"No," He insisted. "Of course I trust you. Why would you think that?"

"You think I would have let you leave a key to your house with just anybody? Come  _on._ I am a professional, and I just can't believe you'd doubt my decisions like this. I mean, really-"

" _All right,_ " He said, cutting her off. "All right, I'm sorry. I was an ass, I know. But he was just so smug, talking about how he was _at your house_ and he'd _see you tomorrow._ And I just couldn't stand it-"

He paused, hearing something on the other end, and realized Clarke was  _laughing._ "What's so funny?" He snapped.

"Mr. Blake," She said after a pause. "Are you  _jealous_?"

"No!" He protested, too quickly and too loudly. God, he was such an idiot.

She made a quiet, sarcastic  _mmmhm_ noise. Another pause, and then, "He's just an old friend, Bellamy. Like family. Nothing more."

He didn't quite know what to say to that. She'd been angry with him, rightly so, but now here she was reassuring him his jealousy was unfounded. Like she liked it. He smiled at the thought of her enjoying his irrationality. 

"Well," He said after a beat. "I  _am_ sorry. I was a dick."

"A huge one," She amended, laughing softly.

"A huge one," He confirmed. "Send my apologies to Finn."

"I'll make them sound sincere," She teased.

"See you in a week, Princess."

"Bye, Bellamy."

When he dropped his phone onto the seat beside him, Bellamy only felt a little less like a jackass. He spent the rest of the ride replaying the conversation in his head. She had called _him_ , teased _him_ , laughed at _him_. He could certainly get used to that side of Clarke, all lighthearted and fun. As he pulled into the shop to start no doubt wait for Miller and Monty who were always late, he made a mental note to piss off Clarke more often.

Later that evening, he was covered in sawdust and sweat from working and hauling the giant maple slab. His stomach grumbled, and he could smell whatever his mother had cooked up for dinner as he pulled into the driveway. 

His family's house was large, about the same size as the lake house in Arkadia. It was colonial in style, with stained wood siding and a large wrap-around porch. It sat on a good 10 acres, and if you took a trail through the woods behind the house, you'd hit the Polis pack's property, about 5,000 acres surrounding the same river that flowed down from Arkadia. Rhys Blake had wanted to move closer to the city, since it was about a 45 minute drive into the suburbs and another 20 into the downtown, where the office was. But Bellamy's mother, Aurora, had vetoed him. The pack needed the space to run, and it was a convenient location for those who didn't live on the property or in town.

His mother stood on the porch waiting for him, and she scanned him up and down like she always did as he approached.

"Looking for bumps and bruises?" He said as he wrapped her in a tight hug, inhaling her ever-present scent of lavender and fresh soap.

Aurora laughed, squeezing him around his middle, two heads shorter than he was. "Always, baby."

"Scratch-free," He said. "Missed you."

"Missed you too, Bell. Now come inside, the food's getting cold."

"You guys waited for me for dinner?"

Aurora rolled her eyes but smiled softly at him. "Of course. There's always a seat for you at our table."

Her words carried more weight than she meant them to, and Bellamy's heart clenched in his chest. His mother, along with the rest of the pack and family, did not yet know about his decision to leave Polis for good. He'd only told his father, who had taken the news seemingly in stride, and Octavia, who had a chip on her shoulder about it. The rest of the pack assumed he was simply renovating the Arkadia house for a summer place, and Bellamy didn't yet have the courage to correct them.

Inside, the house was buzzing. Luna and Derrick's kids immediately launched themselves at his knees, and he dropped his bags only to scoop the 3-year-old twins upside down and lift them onto his shoulders.

"Delivery for the Blakes?" He asked as he strolled into the living room.

"We don't want 'em," Derrick said from the couch where he sat with Octavia and Lincoln. "Send 'em back."

"Dad- _dy,_ " Sula giggled as Bellamy flipped her over and set her down on the ground. He did the same with Titus, and they both charged at their father, who grunted when they landed in his lap.

Octavia got up and hugged him, Lincoln looming behind her like the silent guardian he always was.

"Bellamy," The man said, extending a hand.

Bellamy grasped and shook it firmly, and he even smiled, mostly for Octavia's benefit.

Nobody quite knew what to make of Lincoln. He'd been a nomad who passed through their territory a few years back, mysteriously wounded on his left leg, and Octavia had all but thrown a tantrum insisting the stranger stay with them until he was healed. She became irritable, extremely possessive, jealous to a fault, and barely left Lincoln's side; all signs of what everyone in the pack suspected. She and Lincoln claimed each other less than a month into his stay. Needless to say, he never left.

Bellamy wanted to hate the guy, but he was just so damn _nice._ There could have been a worse mate for his little sister, he supposed.

Luna emerged from the kitchen, calling for the kids, and when she saw Bellamy, she squeezed him in a gentle hug. "Didn't know you were coming in town."

"Honey, a little help here," Derrick interrupted, his voice muffled as his children climbed all over him. 

"Sula, baby, stop climbing on papa's head," Luna glided across the room and plucked her child off her mate's shoulders.

Aurora then ushered everyone into the dining room, and the table was crammed and loud and  _happy._ Bellamy immediately thought of Clarke, of how she had never experienced anything like this, and wished she was there with him experiencing the controlled chaos that was his family.

Rhys Blake was already sitting at the head of the dining room table, his face simultaneously stern  _and_ warm; Bellamy had yet to understand how such an expression was possible. Even though he definitely took after his dad in looks - curly hair, dark skin, tall build - they had little in common in the way of their personalities. The one thing Bellamy truly connected with his father about was carpentry and pack matters, and the latter of those two topics would soon disappear.

Rhys caught Bellamy's arm as he walked past, and quietly, said, "My study after dinner. We have something to discuss."

Bellamy nodded and took a the seat to the left of his father, the right one reserved for his mother. The rest of the family and the few pack members who happened to be at the house filled in the rest of the seats. Raven shuffled in a few moments after everyone settled, squeezing Bellamy's shoulder as she passed. His mother said a quick prayer thanking the earth for all its blessings, and they dug in. The meal passed easily with talk of Octavia and Lincoln's wedding, Luna's pregnancy, and other pack matters.

After dinner, Bellamy followed his father into the study.

Rhys looked weary as he sat behind the stately desk that was only used for pack matters. "I received a concerning letter yesterday."

"Oh?" Bellamy sank into a chair opposite his father, feeling worry knot in his stomach.

Rhys picked up a piece of paper. "Two nomads, a couple, requesting asylum."

Bellamy immediately relaxed. It was rare for wolves to request asylum so formally, but Polis was a large, well-established pack. "What was their reasoning?"

"The female is pregnant. But she has a... birth defect, so they've been turned away from three packs already, which I'm sure comes as no surprise."

Bellamy tried not to scowl at the idea. It wasn't a surprise. Werewolves were notoriously superstitious creatures, but to turn a pregnant wolf away because of a deformity... It made Bellamy's gut twist in displeasure. How unfair.

"Surely, you'll grant it," He said. "They'll need a support system for the child."

Rhys' mouth turned down. "Well, there's the problem. I can't grant them asylum."

Bellamy almost jumped out of his seat. "What? Why not?"

"Because, Bellamy," Rhys said slowly. "The letter was addressed to  _you._ "

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everyone wanted a chapter of Clarke's POV so sorry for another chapter of Bellamy. I just love writing his thoughts so much UGH. But Clarke's chapter is next :) As always, your thoughts are appreciated and unexpected.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay thank you all so much for your patience. I've been trying to update this once a week, but stuff kept getting in the way this week. Anyway, here's chapter 7 from Clarke's POV, as promised! It's a little short and a whole lot unedited.
> 
> Thank you again for the support. It's mind-blowing and I love all of you.

Friday evening, Clarke was curled up on her favorite big armchair, Zula at her feet, Leo curled up on the top of the chair behind her head (how he fit himself up there, she'll never know, but it had become his favorite spot). Samson was spread out on the love seat staring at the TV as if he was actually paying attention to the _Food Network_. She was pouring over another design magazine, flagging motifs and panels for Bellamy's alpha house. It was all she'd been able to think about for the past week.

Well, the house, and  _him_.

She felt her cheeks heat up, which happened every time the memories of running with him the past weekend would surface, which was often. No matter what she was doing, her thoughts would constantly drift to him, and she'd catch herself smiling stupidly.

It had been so freeing to run and play with his solid presence beside her, enduring the childish behavior of her hyper-active wolf like he didn't mind. She was a different creature when she was her other self. As soon as she'd begun to change, she'd split her personality in two. Human Clarke was rigid, composed, and completely in control. Clarke the wolf had always been a way for  _that_ girl to be free, to completely follow her instincts and not be concerned about anyone else. Because no one else was ever around to see that part of her.

Until now. 

She really hadn't been surprised to find the wild thing inside her at the edge of Bellamy’s property after her little breakdown the past weekend. And he had been so sweet, so excited to see her, and so understanding of her clumsiness at socializing. It had been amazing to watch him stalk through the forest, so much bigger than her yet still so graceful. He was magnificent and strong, able to take down a deer completely on his own, and then he had graciously offered it to her. She hoped it wasn't too obvious how much her wolf adored him.

It didn't help that human Clarke had warmed tohim as well.

Her rational side wondered if she was letting herself get swept up too quickly in all this. He  _was_ the only other werewolf she'd ever met, and it was only natural for her wolf to want to be with someone of like kind. She knew wolves were social creatures, from research and simply from the fact that running with someone else, instead of alone, was much more enjoyable. Obviously, she would be drawn to him as a fellow wolf, but she reminded herself to proceed with caution, since she still hadn't met anyone else like her.

 _But it's not just that,_ her instincts insisted.

No, it wasn't. Bellamy was smart, funny, and very objectively handsome; any girl would be attracted to him. But there was something else about him. She couldn't quite place it, but he seemed so  _familiar._ He made her feel safe, and every time she so much as thought about him, she felt her heart speed up and her body temperature rise. Her feelings for him would bubble up, quick and unyielding, and even her human mind knew this wasn't something normal.

As if he'd sensed where her thoughts were, Bellamy's name lit up her phone screen.

 **Incoming Call** from  **Bellamy Blake**

She fumbled to grab her phone, knocking over the precarious pile of magazines she'd stacked on the armrest. Zula yelped as she shot across the room to dodge the avalanche.

"Sorry, Zu," Clarke said quickly, sparing a sympathetic glance to her beta who was now glowering at her from the couch next to Samson.

"Hello?" She said into her phone.

"Clarke?"

Bellamy’s gravelly voice made her breathing come quicker, and she could feel her heart race in her chest. He had no idea the effect he could have on her with a single word. It was ridiculous, honestly. She felt like a  _teenager._

"Bellamy," She said, and cursed herself for the breathy tone in her voice. "Hi."

His low, easy laugh vibrated in her ear, and goosebumps pricked her skin. "Hey, what are you doing?"

 _What are you doing?_ _What_ am _I doing?_  

Her brain short-circuited for a moment. "Oh, just... working a bit."  _And_ not  _thinking about you._

"Well, that's disappointing."

She flushed as if he'd read her mind. Something in his tone implied he was the  _opposite_ of disappointed. "What? Why?"

"Because here I am, standing naked outside my house wondering if you blew off our plans. Don't I feel like the fool."

Clarke almost choked when he said the word  _naked._ What possible plans could he be talking about where he was  _not wearing clothes?_ As she struggled to think of something to say, she remembered the plans they'd made almost a week ago. They'd texted a lot since that night he had invited her to run with him again, much to her surprise and admittedly, her delight. 

 _We didn't forget,_ her wolf reminded her.

She really hadn't. She'd been running by his lake house three nights in the past week even though she knew he wasn't there. When she was alone, and even when she was with her pups, she wished she'd been running with him. Even after every run, she was eager for Friday night to arrive. 

She had just gotten so caught up in the house design that afternoon, and she really hadn't done anything but work on the plans all evening. 

"Clarke," Bellamy said slowly. "Am I being stood up?"

"No!" She said, a bit too quickly. "Um, no."

"Good. Because I know you've been to the house this week. I can _smell_ you."

 _Oh my god,_ her face burned, and something coiled hot and tight in her gut.

"I... I don't really have an explanation," She admitted.

His laugh made her stomach flip, and she could practically hear him smile. "You don't need one. You're welcome here any time."

She grinned into her sleeve. "Noted, thanks."

"So... I don't mean to be brash, but I'm freezing my balls off out here. Meet me by the stream in 5?"

"Okay," She laughed, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible. She wasn't sure it worked because she was already on her feet, stripping off her socks and pants. She dropped her phone onto her chair and ripped her shirt over her head. The dogs watched from their seats as she stumbled around wildly, trying to pull her leggings from her ankles.

She was naked in seconds and rushed for the front door, leaping off the front porch and shifting midair. She landed solidly on four paws and barely paused to flex her legs at the transition.

 _Slow down,_ her human mind chided, but her wolf was having none of it.

She ran swiftly through the woods towards the stream she often visited with the pups and most recently, with Bellamy. Her wolf kept urging her to go faster, not worried with how eager or desperate she seemed. Her human side eventually won out though, forcing her to slow to a more sustainable pace, so at the very least she wouldn't collapse the moment she reached her destination.

Clarke smelled him before she saw him, and her wolf greedily inhaled the scent of him as she approached the water.She spotted him then, his large, dark form pacing back and forth about fifteen yards down the bank.

She would maybe never get used to seeing this side of him. In the waning twilight, he looked... mythical. Huge, powerful - 

 _Mine,_ her wolf cut in. Some instinctual part of her was suddenly very possessive of the wolf standing by the edge of the water. She had no time to dwell on it though, because Bellamy's pacing ceased, and his head whipped up when he caught her scent on the wind.

She had half a mind to play it cool, but again, her wolf had other ideas. She yipped, sprinted towards him, and shocking even herself, pounced on him from just feet away.

In reality, Bellamy was too large for her to knock over, but he yielded to her as the force of her body pushed him to the ground. He made a surprised, happy noise in the back of his throat and quickly rolled them over so that he stood over her.

Clarke was about to be embarrassed by her enthusiasm, but Bellamy returned it tenfold, sniffing and licking her face and all over her fur, making satisfied little whines and huffs. When he'd first done this just a week ago, she had been so anxious and uncomfortable. Now though, she didn't object to his attention, which she understood was a sign of affection. In fact, she kind of  _liked it._

This time, she didn't have to kick him off, as he backed off on his own and allowed her to jump to her feet before he sidled up next to her, bumping her shoulder with his.

They exchanged a brief glance, Bellamy's brown eyes as warm and dark and kind as they were when he was human, and she took off running upstream.

He was quick to catch up to her, nipping at her heels and occasionally jumping into the shallow stream to splash her. He let her lead them up the stream, towards the larger river that fed into it.

She felt so...  _free._ More so than she ever did running alone. Her wolf was thrilled with this new companion, someone who understood and embraced the wild, instinctual side of her that she often resented for being so different. So  _un_ normal. But to Bellamy, this  _was_ normal. He never once looked at her the way other people did, the way she'd caught her own mother glancing at her before; as if they were watching a wild animal, as if they didn't quite trust her. 

She was so caught up her thoughts and their chase that she didn't at first notice the foreign scent on a nearby tree. It grew stronger though as they kept running towards the river, and she stopped dead in her tracks when it hit her firm in the nose.  _A wolf._

Her heart hammered in her chest as Bellamy skirted to a stop beside her. When Clarke growled, low and uneasy and a bit frightened, he seemed to understand. His snout lifted as he sniffed out what she smelled, and his ears perked up, alert. He knocked his body against hers, urging her back the way they came.

 _What is he doing?_ Her wolf cried.  _There's a wolf nearby. A stranger._

She snapped at him then, resisting his pushiness. 

His eyes were earnest, but he backed off. He let out a low, pleading whine, glancing in the direction of her house as if to say  _please._

Her rational human side told her to trust him. She didn't have any desire to interact with another wolf, stranger or not. Not yet. But her wolf told her to investigate, to find out who was on their land and  _why._ After a moment, she decided to listen to Bellamy and turned in the direction of her house. He followed her, marking trees and rubbing up against foliage along the way. She tried not to read into it to much - that he was marking  _her_ territory, combining their scents. She would make him explain everything once they could talk in person.

They reached her back porch, and when she turned around he was practically on top of her, rubbing up against her neck and nibbling behind her ears. He seemed tense, worried even, so she didn't object to his attentions. Her own stomach was tight with unease, even as Bellamy gently licked her snout in goodbye. He waited for her to shift and go inside, and he only darted off when she locked the deadbolt behind her.

Inside her house, Clarke was restless, anxious even. She considered a shower, but as silly as it felt, she didn't want to wash off Bellamy's scent just yet. She instead chose to curl up on the couch between Samson and Leo, clutching her phone. After nearly an hour of debating, she gave up and pulled up Bellamy's number.

The phone rang once, three times, and then on the fifth ring, as she prepared to leave a message:

"Clarke," He sounded out of breath. "Everything okay?"

"Um, yes?" She said, but it came out like a question. "Are you? Okay, I mean."

He huffed a sigh of relief. "Yes, I'm sorry. I was gonna call you the second I got home, but I took longer than planned."

"I was..." She paused, looking for the right word, but only one came to mind: "Worried."

"I'm sorry," He said again, more fervently. "To let you worry. I guess I should explain."

"Please," She said, although none of her anxiety waned.

"The wolf we smelled, he wasn't a stranger. He was a... friend. A pack member, actually."

Clarke sighed in relief. She'd known distantly that she was in no danger in the woods, being with Bellamy, but she couldn't shake off the fear the foreign scent triggered. 

Bellamy continued. "He was never a threat."

"So, why didn't we go after him? Surely he came to see you for a reason."

"It's... complicated. I didn't think he'd come at such an inopportune time."

"Inopportune because you were with me? Am I something to hide?"

"No!" He said quickly. "No, of course not. It's just..." He paused and sighed. "If he saw you, _smelled you,_  he'd tell my family. The pack, if they knew about you... They'd want to meet you. All of them."

"So?" She challenged, suddenly offended that he didn't want her to meet other wolves, other people like her. It was foolish of her, but she wanted to meet his pack and not only interact with other wolves, but win their approval as well. "You don't want me to meet them?"

"Clarke, I'd be  _thrilled_ for you to meet them. They just... can be a lot, and you've never been around other wolves."

"You think I'd embarrass myself?" Her cheeks burned.

Of course Bellamy wouldn't want her to meet his family. She was a lousy excuse for a werewolf, with no real pack, no real rank or even an idea of who her family really was. Not the kind of girl a man brings home to meet his large family. The passion behind these thoughts frightened Clarke; here she was wishing to meet the family of a man she really barely knew.  _This is different,_ her wolf insisted.  _They are like us._ And maybe, a small part of Clarke hoped, they had some answers to her burning questions about her past. 

" _No,_ Clarke, for goddess' sake," Bellamy huffed, interrupting her worrying. "You're wonderful. They'd adore you. I just don't want to push you into something like that and make you explain your life story and our... uh, how we know each other."

"We're friends," She said without thinking. But she couldn't deny anymore that they weren't just connected through work. It was hard to maintain a strictly professional relationship with someone who  _also_ happened to turn into a wolf. "We met through the house renovation."

"Did you just admit we're friends?" 

She rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see her. "Try not to be smug about it."

"Too late," He said, and his laugh made her toes curl. "Friends. I like that. But you'll still design my house for me?"

"The design's almost finished," She said excitedly. "I've figured out how to get you a master suite upstairs without losing a bedroom. I think you'll be pleased."

"I'm sure I'll love it," He replied sincerely.

She flushed bright pink and bit her lip to hold back a smile. He asked more questions about the house and detailed his demo progress so far, even going as far to admit he'd dropped a sledgehammer when he saw her sitting at the edge of the tree line last week. They talked for at least another half hour, and when she yawned, he chuckled.

"I think I better let you get some sleep," He said, his own voice raspy with exhaustion. "Sorry our run was cut short tonight. I promise I'll make it up to you."

"I'll hold you to it."

Another rumbling laugh. "Goodnight, Princess."

"Goodnight."

Not long after, when she fell asleep, Clarke dreamed of being surrounded by wolves, dozens of them, but she was not afraid. She knew every single one, Bellamy among them. They were her pack, her  _family._ They greeted her with warmth and familiarity, and she happily followed them home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this chapter wasn't too much of a mess. I am posting it running on very few hours of sleep. I am a sucker for protective!Bellamy and wolf!Clarke.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are so appreciated but never expected.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! First, I'M NOT DEAD!! I'm so sorry for vanishing. I've been a frazzled mess for the past two weeks and haven't had time to even sit down at my computer. This little number has been sitting in my drafts for so long.
> 
> Second, I AM BLOWN AWAY BY YOUR FEEDBACK. Y'all have seriously made me cry at least three times reading your wonderfully kind and encouraging comments. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU.
> 
> Last chapter was short, and it's been a thousand years since an update, so this chapter is a little longer to show my gratitude :')

**_Clarke_ **

 

The next day, Clarke made herself busy cleaning her house in order to take her mind off the night before. She scrubbed her kitchen top to bottom, vacuumed up a ridiculous amount of dog hair, and even swept off the front porch. That afternoon, she took the dogs on a long run to make up for the number of times she'd left them behind in the past week. Leo and Samson were quick to forgive, but Zula still seemed sour about it, so Clarke threw an extra treat into her bowl after their run.

She'd just gotten out of the shower when her cell phone rang.

 **Incoming Call** from  **Wells Jaha**

She quickly snatched up her phone and answered. "Wells, hey. Thanks for getting back to me."

"Hey, stranger. What's up?"

"Listen, I've got a new project I'm working on, and I was wondering if I could swing by your shop and look at some pieces," She said, toweling off her hair with her free hand. 

"Swing by?" Wells teased.

"Okay, make the hour and a half drive and maybe take you to lunch, too."

"That's more like it."

"How about Monday?"

"Monday..." She heard papers ruffling and then, "I've got a deadline at 9 o'clock but after that, I'm yours. There's a few other places in town I've been dying to show you. This one place has the coolest subway tiles that are dying to be used as kitchen backsplash. I know you love subway tiles, Jo Gaines."

Clarke laughed and almost rolled her eyes. "While I appreciate the sentiment, I'm not sure barnyard chic is the style I'm going for in this home. How about I bring my prelim design around 11, and you can look at the layout and work your magic?"

"Sounds good. Looking forward to it already."

"Me too. See you Monday."

Later in the evening, the temperature dropped drastically, and the few signs of spring that had been teasing for weeks dissipated into frost-bitten air. Clarke peeled and chopped the few vegetables and other leftovers she had in her fridge and dumped it all into a boiling pot, hoping for soup.

While the soup boiled, she pulled out her laptop and opened the design for Bellamy's house. It  _was_ the only project she had at the moment, so she didn't feel completely obsessive. But she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been putting in twice the effort for this design than on any other. 

 _Call him,_ her wolf pressed. 

 _No!_ She'd been fighting the urge all day; playing it cool, calm and collected. She happened to be none of those things, but Bellamy didn't know that. 

After another moment, she snatched up her cell phone and pressed the icon next to his name.

He picked up on the second ring. "Clarke, hey."

"Hi," She said, tucking her knees up to her chin, suddenly nervous. "You busy?"

"No, no," He said quickly. "Not at all, what's up?"

"Just..." How did she tell him she was working on his project without it sounding like that was all she ever did? "Just making some adjustments to your house design. You know, because the weather is awful."

There. That sounded better than _I had nothing else to do but think about your wonderful future life in the beautiful house I'm designing for you_.

"That's awesome. Can I come by and see it?"

 _Oh no._  Clarke sprang up from where she had perched herself in a kitchen chair. "You mean, like, now?" she squeaked.

"Yeah. I'm actually on Highway 94 now." He sounded way too pleased about dropping that bomb on her.

"Oh. Uh, okay, yeah."  _What? Why was she saying yes?_

"Great! See you in a minute."

Clarke stood stark still in her kitchen staring at the phone still in her hand.  _How had he managed to do that?_  Then she squealed out loud, panicking for a moment before recalling she'd cleaned all day. Still, her workspace in the living room was a disaster, so she raced through and haphazardly stacked papers and books.

The crunch of the gravel on the drive outside almost sent her heart sailing through her ribcage. She looked down, only to be horrified by the tiny tank top and tight yoga pants she was wearing, but she heard Bellamy’s heavy boots on the porch. _Too late to change._

Clarke glanced around, making sure there wasn't anything too out of place before she reached for the door. Zula was at her heels, alert at the strange visitor. Samson and Leo weren't far behind her, both looking equally wary.

As she swung open the door, Clarke suppressed a shiver at the draft of cold air that threatened to swallow up all the warmth she had accumulated in her living room. She stared at the broad chest that filled up her doorway before lifting her eyes to his face. She had forgotten how much taller he was than her.

His dark hair was a mess and the five o'clock shadow she had become fond of had returned. The dark grey thermal that stretched across his chest was rumpled from hours of sitting in his truck, no doubt. He stood stock still, as if he was physically holding himself back and at any moment he might pounce her. Not too unlike how her wolf felt in his vicinity, if she was honest.

His wary face split into a sheepish grin when their eyes met. She had expected to see a smug expression there, but if anything he seemed as nervous as her.

"Hey. Sorry to just drop by," He sounded anything _but_ sorry. 

She noticed the way his eyes fell to survey her dreadful outfit before one dark eyebrow lifted in curiosity when he noticed the various mutts staring him down from inside. Clarke swallowed nervously and opened the door wider for him to enter, her free hand automatically moving to smooth her ponytail.

"It's seriously not a big deal. Luckily I cleaned up a bit this morning, or I would've said no."

He grinned and she stepped aside to let him in. As soon as Bellamy moved a foot across the threshold, Zula let out a low-pitched growl. It was too soft to really be menacing, but Clarke couldn't have been more surprised by the usually gentle animal's behavior. Bellamy cautiously paused just inside the door of her entryway.

"Zu," Clarke chastised her beta in a hard voice before closing the door.

Zula at least had the decency to look contrite at her reprimand, but she didn't move from her aggressive stance.

Clarke moved to stand between Bellamy and Zula. She was afraid to look Bellamy in the face for fear of what she might see there, but she needed to show her pack that he was okay. She lightly wrapped an unsteady hand around Bellamy’s forearm in a welcoming way and cleared her throat.

"Bellamy, this is Zula. I'm sorry she's being unfriendly. Over there is Leo, the mutt, and Samson, the Pyrenees." At the mention of his name, Leo sat back on his haunches, puffing out his chest in pride. Samson cocked his head to the side, studying the two werewolves and the physical contact linking them before his mouth popped open in a smile and his tongue fell out happily.

Bellamy knelt down to place himself at their level and slipped away from Clarke's tenuous hold, leaving an empty space where her hand lingered a moment before she pulled it back.

"Hey Leo," He nodded his head at the hound. "Samson." He held out an open hand to the brute and he politely came forward to accept soft scratches on his head and back. The warmth that blossomed in Clarke's chest at the sweet exchange threatened to burst her heart.  _When had she become such a sap?_

Before he rose, Bellamy turned to Zula who had been watching them intently, but the big brat abruptly spun and walked away towards the living room in what could only be described as a huff. Clarke couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped and popped a hand over her mouth to cover it. Zula had some balls turning her back on an intimidating wolf like Bellamy.

Her hand still covering her mouth, she snuck a peek up at Bellamy’s face as he watched Zula's snub, but he seemed amused if anything, a twinkle visible in his eye.

"I'm sorry – she's a bit spoiled."

Bellamy chuckled. "I didn't peg you as the spoiling type."

She blushed. They stood staring at each other for a long moment, each quietly assessing the other. He was so different from what she had thought he would be when they'd happened upon each other in the woods. He was kind and  _good_. She hadn't expected that at all.

Bellamy broke the spell by looking away first and then took a deep breath. "It smells amazing in here."

Clarke blinked, her eyes moving towards the kitchen. "Oh, I made soup just a bit ago. The weather has been so weird; it seemed like a good night for it. Are you hungry?"

Bellamy smiled widely and met her eyes. "Always. But I wasn't really talking about the food."

Clarke's eyebrows drew together in confusion, but Bellamy didn't explain any further. He just shook his head, smiling at her crookedly. She shrugged and turned away from him, towards her kitchen. "I'll heat you up a bowl. I have to feed the dogs too."

She gestured for him to sit at the kitchen table and went about filling the dogs' bowls and then pouring Bellamy some soup. She set it in front of him on the table and then sat down in the adjacent chair with a bowl of her own. She and Bellamy dug in when she heard a low whine from Zula.

The three dogs sat in front of their bowls, waiting for the go-ahead. "Oh, go on," Clarke said quickly, waving a hand to their bowls. The pups quickly attacked their food, content at last.

"You're their Alpha," Bellamy said suddenly. It was a statement, not a question, although she detected a tiny hint of surprise in the words.

Clarke did not look up her bowl. He didn't say anything else, and she bit her tongue, trying to fight her discomfort at the silence. Finally, when she glanced up and caught him looking at her with an unreadable expression, she sighed and looked back down.  "I'm sure it sounds pathetic to you. A bunch of mutts and a stray werewolf."

Bellamy's spoon froze in his hand, and she caught sight of his arm as it darted out to pull her chair loudly across the floor to sit right beside him. Her wide eyes flitted to his face in alarm, and she was taken aback at the frustrated expression that had settled there.

"You  _can't_ be serious."

She just blinked at him in bewilderment. His face was rigid, but not angry. He leaned over, his arm snaking behind her to rest on the back of her chair and he put his face close to hers as he spoke. She resisted the urge to shrink back, or worse, lean closer.

"Clarke, you are the  _opposite_  of pathetic. I can't even imagine what it must have been like for you as a child. You…" He paused as if searching for words, his eyes piercing straight through her. "You are probably the bravest wolf I've ever met. I am frankly amazed by you. And these dogs are lucky to have you."

Clarke's breathing stopped when his free hand came up as if to cup her face, but then hovered there before moving away again.

She didn't know what to say. How could she doubt the intense sincerity in his words? But it was just so… unbelievable, that he could think so highly of her. He didn't know her. She studied his face for any sign of mockery, but it was hard to look at him when he was staring at her so fiercely.

He was remarkably good at getting past all of her defenses. He used his blazing honesty like a weapon and it cut so easily through the indifference she used as a flimsy armor. Maybe it was because it was so much easier to be indifferent to everyone else, but with him it was impossible. After what felt like an eternity, she smiled at him.

"Thank you," Her voice was barely a whisper.

Even as dangerous as it was for her sanity to be so close to him, Clarke didn't really want to scoot her chair away. If anything she wanted to lean towards him and close that small distance between them – to feel the solidity of his body under her hands once again, like she had in the entryway. She was starting to crave the heat that wrapped around her when he was near, despite how suffocating it was. Even his spicy scent comforted her now like nothing else ever had, and she longed to press her nose right up against him and breathe deep.

But she couldn't do any of that, of course. She stayed perfectly still before carefully moving her chair a safe distance away. She pulled her bowl from the corner of the table and began to eat again.

He didn't say anything else for a while. But after he finally started to eat once more, Clarke peeked up at him. "I'm not that brave, really." She smirked as his questioning eyes found her face again. "I ran from  _you_."

It was supposed to be a joke, and Bellamy smiled sardonically but then seemed to contemplate her words seriously for a minute. She noticed the way his jaw bones moved underneath his skin while he chewed.

His deep voice was soft. "You know that I could never hurt you, right?"

She paused, thinking about the way he had phrased that. Not that he wouldn't, but that he _couldn't_. As if he was incapable of it.

"I didn't know that, no." The words were out before she could take them back. Instinctively knowing her words would upset him, she glanced over to see Bellamy’s jaw clench.

It was the truth, though. Clarke had never trusted anyone outside of her human family and for good reason. Desire and hope for belonging somewhere, anywhere had only brought her danger.

_But it seemed so different this time._

She was not a child anymore – she could understand things on a higher level and not blindly trust just anyone. She didn't say the words aloud but in her head she thought that maybe she did believe him. Or could. It sometimes felt as if she already did trust him, body and soul, but her mind refused to concede the fact.

His eyes flitted back and forth between her own – assessing the truth of her statement before he sighed in disappointment. But then a fierce determination settled in his eyes.

"What was that conversation we had not too long ago? Where you yelled at me about trust?"

Clarke tried to hide her smile behind her spoon. Bellamy turned back to his bowl only to find it empty. She reached for it to fetch him some more, but he grabbed her hand to stop her, his calloused fingers leaving burning imprints on her wrist.  _Did her skin feel this hot all the time?_  No wonder her mother always thought she had a fever. She pulled her hand away quickly, rubbing her wrist to rid it of the tingles once his back was turned to the stove. 

She was surprised to see he'd scooped up her empty bowl as well, and the faucet turned on just a moment later. Upon walking around the kitchen counter, she saw him at the sink, scrubbing their dishes clean.

"Are all alphas as ravenous as you when it comes to downing food?"

He grinned at her over his shoulder. "Well, it's all werewolves really – we run hotter, eat more, heal faster." She had noticed these things about herself, sure, but she liked hearing it come from someone who really knew. It made her feel more real, more complete somehow. Like she didn't just exist in her own head.

She liked that Bellamy answered her without any inflection of judgment in his voice – just honesty. But he did watch her reaction with interest.

"So you want to see the design?"

Bellamy laid the bowls and utensils in the drying rack and leaned against the counter; he always seemed so comfortable everywhere he was. As opposed to Clarke, who was standing rigidly in her own kitchen.

He leaned forward with his eyebrows raised, as if he'd completely forgotten the reason he'd come over in the first place. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

Clarke grabbed her computer and led him back through the archway to her small living room. She was all of a sudden nervous about showing him the work she'd started. It was far from done and she hadn't perfected anything yet. And she wanted it to be perfect.

In her nervousness she began rambling. "It's not anywhere close to finished. I just kind of started on the premise of rearranging the rooms in the way that made the most sense, so if you don't like something, just say so. And the design is still really rough for the upstairs aside from the master suite."

She briefly looked up to see Bellamy leaning against the archway with an amused smile on his face. His eyes danced, following her movements as she pulled out the ponytail in her hair to shake it out and redo it again without even realizing her actions.

She settled on the end of the couch after setting her laptop on the arm and opened it to start looking for the files she wanted to show him. She was aware when Bellamy followed to sit beside her, but a flash of white fur caught in the corner of her eye before a big burly body leaned against her own.

Zula had climbed on the couch at exactly the same time as Bellamy had tried to sit, so that they were all three wedged in together, Zula in the middle. She leaned past the brat to catch Bellamy’s eye and bit her lip to stop the stupid giggle threatening to escape.

She scratched her best friend's head and softly admonished her. "Zu, baby, you have to get down."

In response, she settled her front paws on Clarke's lap and proceeded to lay her head down on top of them, her blue eyes peeking up at her alpha dolefully. She leaned her head down to set her cheek on Zula's head before giving her a kiss. After some gentle nudging she managed to finally push the husky to her other side, so that she was now wedged between Zula and a very amused Bellamy. 

She cleared her throat nervously. "I'm sorry. I think she may be a little jealous."

Bellamy harrumphed indignantly, mumbling something under his breath that she ignored along with the inviting heat now pressed along one side of her leg.

"Ok. Here." She handed the computer to Bellamy so he could see better. She wished she had her oversize monitor from work to display some of this. "So, this is the original design."

She leaned against him more firmly to type on the keys and change the screens, but he didn't complain. "I started on this back corner. And I've adjusted the master bedroom wall here to make the great room larger and turned it into an office. Well, y _our_  office. The bathroom can now be reached from either room. The fire place is still here against the back wall, but I think I want to do something different with the stone."

She glanced at him but his eyes were glued to the screen. "See here – the formal dining room has been cut into the kitchen but I've moved this wall so the entry way doesn't open directly into it. I'm not finished with the layout, it isn't quite where I want it yet, but that's what I'm working on now. I haven't even started with the downstairs bedrooms or anything upstairs but I'm thinking the entire second floor will be four bedrooms and two suites for you, your beta and eventually your families…. There may even be room for a common area to relax away from everyone else."

She glanced at his face and his dark eyes finally moved from the screen to look at her. She was aware of their close proximity all over again. It made her even more nervous so she shifted and leaned back toward Zula's side of the couch to give them both some breathing room, taking her computer with her.

He still hadn't said anything yet. Did he hate it?

"Well?"

Oh no, he hated it.

"I love it."

Clarke couldn't fight the smile that threatened to stretch her cheeks to the brink, searching Bellamy’s face for any trace of hesitation. "Really? It's ok if you don't like something. It's my job to design whatever you want."

"No, I'm totally serious. It's perfect." He poked her side in a friendly way, making her squirm. "I hired you for your talent, remember?"

Clarke blushed. Of course that's why he hired her. She knew that. Becoming friends with his architect was just an added bonus for Bellamy.

 _Ha._  The last thing he probably needed was another female  _friend_. She pushed Zula off the couch and scooted down more, breaking the contact between them while turning back to her computer to keep making tweaks to what was still on the screen.

"I think I'll be done with this prelim late next week. And then I can send it to my father for approval. Then we'll both meet with you before creating actual blueprints and construction documents."

Bellamy interrupted her musings. "Can you show me the kitchen again?"

She turned in surprise. "Sure." She brought it up on the monitor and Bellamy leaned over to see. "I redesigned it from galley-style to more of a U-shape to create a more open work area and maximize the limited space. And I want to put in a large island here between the appliances and the informal seating area."

Bellamy’s hand came up, pointing to the blank space. "Here – do you know the dimensions yet? I'm working on a table for it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I hope that's okay. I think you'll like it."

Clarke turned to find Bellamy’s grinning face right next to hers and laughed. "Of course. It's your house. I didn't even think about you working on the furniture. Did you want to design the cabinets?"

"I was thinking it would be more of a collaboration. If you design it, I'll make it." Clarke liked that idea and her smile conveyed her agreement.

"Deal. So, you'll make anything I design?" she challenged.

"You bet, babe." Clarke had to laugh at his confidence.

"Ok. Tell me about the table."

Bellamy’s eyes lit up when she asked and the happiness she saw there made her want to ask about his work more often. "I have a buddy, a pack mate, actually," he added after remembering who she was. "He works for the forestry service in the national forest around Polis. He brought me a fallen tree - a Western big leaf maple. My brother helped me prep it, but I need to know how big to cut it. I want it to be simple, just a rugged slab, to follow the natural edge of the wood, but then I'm thinking I'll probably finish it with a high gloss."

Clarke had been so consumed in her own work, she hadn't stopped to consider him as a designer, too. She had no doubt he was talented in his profession. "It sounds beautiful. I can't wait to see it."

"You think? I was hoping you'd like the idea."

Clarke's first reaction was to be flattered that he wanted her opinion, but she reminded herself he had  _hired_  her. This wasn't a college team project that they were working on. It was a job.

"Yes, it's perfect. I'm aiming for warm and rustic. But still modern." The description could fit his persona to a T and Clarke realized she was designing his house as a reflection of how she saw him. "Actually, I could use your help with gathering some interior selection samples, since you're here. I'd like to know more about what you like….as far as wood grains, colors, finishes, everything really."

Clarke got up to fetch some specific magazines and books she'd been looking at before pausing and turning back to where Bellamy had made himself comfortable on the couch. "I meant, if you have time. If you have somewhere to go, we can do it another time…"

Bellamy did his nonchalant, hands-behind-the-head move to lean onto the cushions behind him, propping a foot onto the corner of the coffee table in front of the couch at the same time. "Nope. No plans. Except for you."

Clarke turned back to find what she was looking for before her face betrayed her blush, but her brain had stopped working for a second. She walked aimlessly for a few feet before finally remembering she was looking for design mags. She rolled her eyes at herself. No one had ever flustered her like this before and it made her crazy. It seemed like physical distance helped clear her head. She needed to remember that.

"I saw some cool lighting in this one…and this house had really good millwork…." She collected a hefty stack from around her house for him to look through and brought it over to set on the coffee table in front of him, purposely bumping his foot off the table in the process.

"Ignore all the pages I marked and all the notes. Just show me whatever you like. Or better yet..." She skipped over to her desk behind the couch and then leaned over the back to hand him a pad of hot pink post-its. "Here, mark what you like with these."

He snorted after grabbing the pad. "Slave driver."

She laughed. "After you're done with those, I want you to look at hardware and appliances."

"Yes, ma'am."

Clarke walked back around to fetch her computer from the table and sat at the opposite end of the same couch, tucking her bare feet underneath herself. This is where she usually sat and she might need to show him something, she reasoned with herself.

"I'm just going to work while you look, if you don't care."

He was already flipping through one of the magazines from the stack, both of his feet propped on the coffee table now. Clarke pursed her lips at him, but she didn't really care.

"No, I'm good."

She tried - she  _really_ tried to focus on her screen and the work in front of her, but it was hard, sitting where she was. Directly above her screen, she had an unobstructed view of Bellamy’s chiseled jaw and the myriad expressions that crossed his face as he perused wood grains and finishes. But after being caught in the act twice and seeing a smug smile ghost across his face, she resolutely went back to work.

After what felt like hours of confining her eyes to the blueprints in front of her, but was actually maybe only 20 minutes, she risked a glance over to Bellamy’s side of the couch. His head was leaned back to rest on the cushions and his eyes were closed, a magazine lying open on his lap. Clarke's eyes devoured him for several unguarded minutes.

His face had a very angular quality – softened only by the rounded muscles of his square jaw and the fullness of his lips. His hair was getting longer compared to when they first met when it had been cut close to his head. But now pieces had begun curling around his ears and the back of his neck. His skin was apparently that perfectly brown color all year long – considering it was just now spring and she doubted he went sunbathing in winter. Dark hair sprinkled the top of his chest, in the shallow V of his thermal shirt and along the tops of his forearms.

He was so handsome she could stare at him forever.

But right now it was making her fidgety and horny. God, the man was just laying there and she was getting all hot and bothered. She seriously needed to get laid. There was no way she could survive around this guy and his oozing sexuality without some kind of relief from the tension.  _Did he feel this too or was it all one-sided?_

She carefully uncurled her feet from beneath her, trying not to jostle the couch and wake him. Then she slowly stretched out one of her legs, pointing her toes to poke him in the thigh and wake him up, but just before she had closed the distance his hand reached out and snatched her foot, tucking it in the crook of his arm against his chest. Clarke squeaked and her eyes flashed to his face in shock. His eyes were still closed but his lips had curved into a smile.

"I'm not sleeping," he rumbled. "Just resting my eyes."

She pulled on her foot, but he wasn't letting her go so she grunted at him in aggravation.

"Don't worry, I'll get back to work in a minute. Goddess knows you'll probably have me doing this for hours."

Clarke stopped trying to reclaim her foot for a second, wondering at his strange turn of phrase.

"Goddess?"

One of Bellamy’s eyes cracked open and he lazily turned his head, his brow furrowed in confusion. Something registered in his eyes before he began to speak. "Right, you don't know this..."

He sat up straighter and turned to face her more fully, never letting go of her. His big hand was wrapped around her small foot and his thumb absentmindedly began stroking the arch. It tickled but Clarke couldn't bring herself to tell him to stop.

"Well, um, our history, we learn about it our whole adolescent lives. After pack meetings, a designated teacher would take us through the history of our kind. We're taught about a lot of the myths and stories that our people told of how we came to be. One of the major themes is the Goddess. They called her the Old Mother or Great Mother; she has many names across the tribes."

Clarke's eyes were riveted to Bellamy’s face as he spoke. She had never heard a single word uttered about her history, and this link now, being given to her so unexpectedly was electrifying.

"She came down to earth from the moon and was able to take any form she wanted, but she chose to walk among our ancestors as one of them and eventually came to care deeply for them. She respected them and their beliefs. My ancestors, the Sioux people, practiced totemism."

Clarke's eyebrows drew together, trying to place where she'd heard the term before.

"It's a belief system in which humans have a spiritual connection to another physical being – often expressed in an intimate relationship of friendship and protection between a person and a particular animal – in our case, wolves."

Bellamy smiled wryly at her and she stopped being fascinated for a second to realize that he was a good teacher. Like his Mother.

"The Moon Goddess loved the Dakota people so much she gave them a gift: joining the souls of the human and wolf as one - so that they became one body with two souls. There are also stories of how the Great Mother fell in love with one of the Sioux men - that her children are the true leaders of our packs – the alpha bloodline." Bellamy cleared his throat. "So that is the short version of how we came to be."

He was quiet for a minute while Clarke sat trying to process this story and rectify it with her own beliefs.

She had come from somewhere, had been created by someone, on purpose. She knew this was true somehow deep inside her, and unwanted tears burned behind her eyes at the validation from Bellamy’s mouth. She wasn't an anomaly or a freak biological accident.  _Or alone_. She had existed since the Mother had come and shaped her into being long ago. Her entire being felt lighter than air for the first time since she was a child.

Bellamy cleared his throat gently, trying not to break her silent contemplation.

"I always imagined she looked something like you." Bellamy smiled at her so softly that her heart squeezed painfully in her chest and the unshed tears threatened to spill over.

"Who?" She asked, blinking them away, furiously trying not to cry in front of this man. Hadn't she embarrassed herself enough with him?

"The Moon Goddess."

Clarke cocked her head to the side, not understanding.

"The first night I saw you, running through the woods, you looked like pure moonlight, glowing silvery white. That's how I always imagined her. She must have been beautiful, like you."

Clarke stared at him, lost in his story and his eyes.

"Does she…does the Moon Goddess have a symbol?" The breathlessness of her voice gave it a note of desperation, but she didn't hear it. She could only hear Bellamy and all of his answers.

"Yes. She has many. I, um. I can show you one." He sounded apprehensive about the prospect.

Clarke nodded her head hastily, greedy for more information. Without explaining, he moved down the couch propping a knee on it and turning to face her fully. At the same time he carefully pulled her leg across his body, so her thigh now rested on top of his – their positions mirror images. He began to pull up the left side of his shirt agonizingly slowly.

Clarke's brain misfired, and her breathing stuttered at the first sight of the sinewy muscles of his stomach as they moved underneath his smooth, tan skin. Then she saw the black mark on his ribs, just below his heart and her breathing picked up in double time as she stared unblinkingly at the symbol.

It was the three moons linked together. The first was the waxing moon, its curved back resting against the full moon, and then followed by the waning moon – a perfect imitation of the letter C. They formed a chain in each of the phases. Although disappointed that she had never seen this symbol before, she couldn't deny it seemed to mean something important. Before she realized what she had done, her fingers had lightly brushed the blackened skin of Bellamy’s tattoo. She looked up to find him staring at her intensely, not making a sound, not even breathing.

She pulled her hand back, biting her lip. "I'm sorry."

"No. It's fine," He said, letting out the breath he'd been holding.

"What does it mean?" She knew there was something there; she just didn't quite understand it.

"It's the sign of the Triple Goddess – the Great Mother in all her forms. It isn't really Dakota – I borrowed it from a Greek tribe." He traced the lines of the first moon. "The Maiden represents the virgin, birth, and youth symbolized by the waxing moon." His middle finger moved to the full moon at the center and Clarke watched with anticipation and the memory of the feel of that skin under her fingertips. "The Mother represents fertility, sexuality, power and life symbolized by the full moon. The Crone represents wisdom, death, and endings symbolized by the waning moon."

"Wow."

Bellamy laughed at her wonder and the muscles of his stomach moved in ripples again beneath his skin. The desire to feel it under hands was overwhelming, but she held back. She had more questions.

"So there are more symbols? Not just this one?"

"No, not at all. Each tribe has their own mythology. Stories that have been passed down along with symbols from their heritage. Most of them have a Goddess or Mother and this is just one of her signs."

Clarke timidly pulled up the left sleeve of her sweater to her elbow, exposing the skin there and the black ink tattoo centered at the top of her forearm. She held it out to him.

"Have you ever seen this one?"

Bellamy grasped her wrist softly, taking her elbow in his other hand and brushing his thumb over the symbol. She didn't look at it, instead she watched him. She'd seen the mark enough times to know exactly what it looked like.

It was a basic circle – the full moon in its simplest form. But a section of it had been filled with the figure of a woman, bent over in the shape of a crescent moon. Her arms were stretched out above her, long hair flowing around her body before melting into the folds of her full-length dress.

"No. I'm sorry, I've never seen it." Bellamy peeked up at her, sounding distressed.

Clarke couldn't help the disappointment she felt as well. It was stupid to expect him to know it just because he had taken some mythology classes. She pulled her arm away from his grasp, sliding the sleeve of her sweater back down to cover it.

"I could show it to my mother," he offered.

Hope must have glimmered in her eyes because he added, "If anyone has seen it or knows something about it, she would."

She nodded, smiling slightly. "Okay. Thanks."

They were still face to face, intimately close. Clarke only had to scoot forward a little and she would be completely on his lap with both legs wrapped around his torso. She could easily wrap her arms around his neck and press her body fully against his.

 _No, bad wolf._  She couldn't move away because the arm of the couch was at her back. She would have to push Bellamy back to get any more space between them but actually doing that felt unbearable.

"If you don't mind me asking, where did you find that symbol? You must not have had the tattoo as a child."

She shook her head, her lips twisting in mirth. "No. It's part of a depiction on the blanket I was wrapped in when I was left here as a baby." She pointed to the porch. "Right out there actually." She smiled even though Bellamy’s pained faced looked as if she'd stabbed him in the heart. "After I changed, I realized it had more meaning than just a pretty picture."

Clarke moved her leg off of Bellamy to lift herself from the couch, using his shoulder as leverage. She padded down the hallway in her bare feet to her bedroom. She kept the tiny blanket under her pillow most of the time. It probably didn't help its longevity, but she liked keeping it close at night when she often felt alone. She carried it back to the living room, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of him and laying it out beside him on the couch.

It was obviously an old image, one made long before her or her parents' time. But it had been woven into this blanket as a keepsake. The only one Clarke had.

In the lower right corner there was the sun; a man, actually, curled in on himself and the rays that protruded out around him spread across the entire space of the blanket. A spattering of stars created a banner across the center of the picture, and on the other side was the moon with the crescent woman in it. And of course most prominent across the space were two wolves posed as if leaping into the air – one chasing the sun and one chasing the moon. Clarke's hand traced the pattern of one wolf and then the moon she chased.

"I don't know why, but I always liked the moon the best. When I was nineteen, I had a short rebellious fit."

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot skyward. "I'm sorry I missed that."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up," she pushed him playfully. She might be a bit uptight now, but there were reasons people became who they were. "Anyway, I dropped out of school for a few months and basically lived in the woods – as a wolf. But when I went back to my normal life, I had this done to remind myself of that part of me that is always there. Even if no one else can see it."

Bellamy was looking at her blanket again, as if trying to memorize it. "It's a better reason than mine. I was just a stupid kid that thought it would be cool to have a tattoo."

"No," She said sincerely. "It means something to you."

He didn't deny it. "It's kind of funny we both have Goddess tattoos."

Clarke thought about that. He seemed sure that it was a symbol of the Moon Goddess. Maybe this picture was part of her tribe's mythology?

"Do you think your mom might know of it?"

"It's possible. She's probably seen it in one of her thousands of books." Bellamy smiled wryly at her, before a question surfaced. "Can I take a picture of it? To show her?"

Clarke started to protest for some reason, to protect her precious keepsake but it was just a picture after all. And the possibility of actually learning something about her past was impossible to turn down so she nodded. "Sure."

Bellamy pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly took a picture. Clarke gathered the blanket back up but didn't move to return it to her room, instead she just held it against her body. When she looked back at Bellamy, he was yawning and stretching his arms above his head.

"You look tired." She glanced at the clock on her stereo to see the time. It was getting late. Time with him always seemed to move quicker.

"I'm okay," He shrugged.

He obviously wasn't. She pursed her lips at him. "We can work on this another time. You should go home and sleep."

He sighed in resignation and her heart fluttered a little in happiness because he wanted to stay.

"Um, I was going to run some errands on Monday, and you can…you can go with me if you want?" _Why did she feel like she was asking him on a date?_

"I'm meeting with a guy in Kettle Falls about the house. He's an old friend that started an interior design business there, and he was going to show me some cool places in town for interiors."

"Really? You want me to go?"

"Well, yeah," She laughed because it seemed obvious to her. "It would be nice to get your opinion immediately. Instead of just guessing. But if you have plans, I can do it alone."

"No. I want to go." He stood up, stretching his back again and his shirt rode up to expose the skin of his stomach.

Clarke averted her eyes. She couldn't take much more of Bellamy’s skin tonight without some carnal consequences. She followed him to the door, worrying about him driving home so late when he was tired.

"I'll drive tomorrow." Of course he would. He was such an... _alpha_. "What time should I pick you up?"

She argued even though she knew it was futile. "Are you sure?"

He laughed. "What time?"

He stepped out onto the porch and she leaned against the door to watch him go, feeling quite tired herself.

"Uhh…let's say nine. Then we can make it there by mid-morning."

"I'll be here."

Then, quick as lightning he leaned down and kissed Clarke on the cheek. She was so stunned by it that she couldn't even move a muscle.

"Goodnight Clarke." The whispered words echoed into her ear before he stepped back through the door. The goose bumps that erupted across her skin had nothing to do with the cold outside.

She watched with wide eyes as he hopped off the porch and got into his big diesel truck. Her right hand, the one not clutching onto the door for dear life, lifted to her cheek where the imprint of his searing lips had left their mark and she resisted the urge to smile in case he could still see. She moved her hand to her hammering heart before she finally responded with a defeated sigh. "You are going to be the death of me, wolf-boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll try to have another one up in a few weeks at the most. Thank you for your patience. As always, your support and feedback is appreciated and adored. :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE!! First of all, thank you all for your patience. The last month and a half has been... insane. I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting. 
> 
> Second, THANK YOU! Your feedback is still making me emotional. I deadass cried the other day reading some of the comments. <3333
> 
> Third, I'm finished. Here's a semi-short ninth chapter. Hopefully it won't be half a century before I update again.

**_Bellamy_ **

 

Bellamy woke up Sunday morning with another two missed calls from Lincoln. He groaned, once again reminded about how his sister's mate cut short his night with Clarke. 

Once he'd seen Clarke home, Bellamy raced back to his house, where a large gray timber wolf had been sitting patiently next to Bellamy's truck.

Upon seeing Bellamy, Lincoln had shifted, standing tall and proud despite being buck naked. He didn't say a word as Bellamy shifted as well, and only moved once Bellamy grumbled an invitation inside to find them some clothes.

"Who was the she-wolf you were with in the woods?" Lincoln had asked once they were both in pants, twisting his hands tightly around the bottle of beer he'd been given. "I didn't recognize her scent."

"A friend," Bellamy said, tone clipped. "You ran here from Polis?"

"Yes," Lincoln said gently, taking the hint. "I needed the run to clear my head."

"Clear it of what, exactly?" Bellamy said, leaning against the counter. 

Lincoln smiled ruefully. "My life has changed so much in the past three years. It hasn't exactly been easy. With the wedding coming up, and your leaving the pack, and..." He trailed off, wringing his hands around his beer. He sighed. "I know Octavia is supposed to ascend, but -"

"She is  _going_ to ascend," Bellamy interrupted, setting his beer down on the counter. "She is Polis' next alpha."

Lincoln frowned. "I know. But if she  _didn't_ ascend... If she left the pack... Would you give her your blessing?"

"She doesn't want to leave," Bellamy said confidently. His sister loved their pack more than anything. Then, realization dawned on him. "But you do."

The dark-eyed man blinked, surprise evident on his face, then, "Octavia is my life-"

"Then you know," Bellamy growled, cutting him off. "That Polis is your life. Octavia loves this pack more than her own life; she'd die for it. I'd die for it. Would you?"

"It's easy for you to say that," Lincoln said, his voice quiet and calm. "You've always had a pack. You've never known what it's like to be alone. You have no idea how hard it's been for me to adjust."

Bellamy was at a loss for words, and Lincoln continued. "I will go wherever she leads. But I'm not ready to _lead_. A whole pack? When I haven't been a part of one since I was a pup?

"I don't expect you to understand. I just needed to tell someone."

Bellamy went to sleep that night with his stomach in his throat and Clarke's scent still thick on his skin. Come Monday morning, Lincoln's words rang in Bellamy's ears. _You've never known what it's like to be alone._ Would Clarke think him spoiled? Would she resent him for his upbringing? Would she even want to join a pack? As he drove to Clarke's house, he found his stomach twisting at the idea. 

He was early. He idled in his truck for a minute to give Clarke more time, studying the tiny green house where she lived. It almost blended in with the forest surrounding it, and he could see how it would disappear when the trees were in full bloom. White smoke was silently puffing out of the chimney. It calmed him being this near. For most of the week he'd been hours away from her and now he was mere seconds. From this distance he could protect her - however ridiculously primitive that might seem.

So strong was the pull to be close to her that he couldn't even make himself feel bad for showing up with barely a notice the night before. _Especially_ after how well it had gone. He closed his eyes remembering the way her small foot had fit into the palm of his hand, the feel of her soft skin under his calloused fingers, the weight of her leg on top of his. There was no mistaking the desire he had smelled on her and his wolf savored it.

He climbed out of his truck, the anticipation of seeing her making him feel almost giddy. Clarke opened the door before he'd completely made it out of his truck, peeking her little blonde head outside.

"Hi." She smiled at him, and his stomach dipped at the sight of her.

"Hi," He repeated dumbly.

"I'm almost ready. Just give me another minute."

She left the door hanging open and disappeared inside without waiting for him. As he entered her tiny house, his nose was overwhelmed again with her alluringly sweet scent and he inhaled deeply. He could only hope his own house would someday be this saturated with her. His wolf rumbled his agreement.

Closing the door behind him he was confronted with his new nemesis. Zula was blocking the narrow path down the hall, and he caught sight of Clarke behind her, padding down it in her bare feet, Leo following closely on her heels. She was wearing jeans today. He'd never seen her in jeans. She looked... relaxed. Almost as much as she had the night before, in a pair of torturously tight yoga pants.

After she disappeared through a door, he looked back to find Zula eyeing him suspiciously, clearly annoyed with his presence here again.

"Sorry, sweetie. You definitely have to share her now." Zula grumbled at him in response before collapsing in a heap at his feet.

Trying to decide if he should sit or not, Bellamy put his hands in his pockets and glanced around, spying Samson sprawled out in the kitchen. The large dog huffed at him in greeting, so he huffed back. Samson's tail wagged in return.

He opted to just hang out in the entry way and leaned back against the door to wait. It really was a quaint house. Small but sweet. Like Clarke. It was hard to imagine she had just been left here on the porch as a baby. What had her life been like here?

Bellamy's musings were interrupted when she came back down the hall with knee-high boots on and a scarf around her neck, Leo still at her heels. He was happy to see her looking so casual. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, only half pulled back by a clip. As Clarke turned into the kitchen, Leo bounced up to him excitedly and began pressing his body against his legs pleading for a quick rub, so he obliged the mutt.

He followed her outside as she said goodbye to the dogs and locked up. She automatically moved towards the passenger side before he quickly steered her to his side with a hand on the small of her back.

She turned her blue eyes to his in question. "You'll have to climb in over here; too much stuff in the front seat." He opened the door and she paused staring into the crowded cab before looking up at him skeptically. He shrugged. "Sorry, I've been living out of my truck lately driving back and forth so much."

"I can drive my car. It's no problem."

He gave her another soft push. "But I'm driving."

She sighed and climbed in, scooting herself over as far as she could to the middle seat. He hopped in after her, the height not as much of a climb for him. Bellamy smiled as his leg pressed against hers because of their proximity. He couldn't have planned this better than if he'd meant to.

He started the loud diesel engine and put it into drive before swinging an arm across the back of the bench seat. Clarke had her eyes on the road, avoiding looking anywhere else. They bumped along her gravel drive before he swung them onto the highway.

She cleared her throat – still staring straight ahead. "So you know where you're going?"

"Kettle Falls, right?"

Kettle Falls was one of those artsy towns that had made a name for itself as a tourist destination because of all the charming shops and cafes. It was littered with bed-and-breakfasts and antique shops galore. Every year it held numerous art festivals, cooking events and, even more recently, a gay pride parade. It was a surprisingly eclectic community for the quiet mountains.

"Yes, Kettle Falls. Wells' shop is downtown." She was leaning slightly forward, holding herself too rigid to be comfortable, her eyes scanning the road in front of them for what, he wasn't sure.

He leaned his head in her direction and she stiffened even more. "Relax, enjoy the ride."

She turned her wary eyes up to his and he smiled reassuringly at her. She heaved a sigh – as if telling him nonverbally that he was wearing her out - but she finally relaxed against the seat, tucking herself into his side.

They were quiet for several miles, just enjoying the drive. The snow from last night had all but disappeared except for a few small patchy areas. The grass had already grown in thick from the spring weather so it looked almost as if white flower buds had fallen from the lush trees instead of a scattering of late snow still clinging on.

An old song came on the radio, and Bellamy absentmindedly began to sing along. After a few seconds, he heard Clarke's soft laugh. He glanced over and caught her staring at him with a hand slightly covering her mouth. She eyed him with a half-hidden smile.

"What?" He said, grinning at her. "You don't like Toto? _Everyone_ knows this song."

"Apparently not as well as you do," She said, giggling.

He cut her off before she could say more, cranking up the volume an obnoxious amount. " _It's gonna take a lot to take me away from you! There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do._ "

By the end of the chorus, his voice was cracking, and Clarke was doubled over laughing. He turned down the volume and cleared his throat. "Well?"

"Pack your bags," She choked out, still giggling. "You're going to Hollywood."

The rest of the ride was much like this; he would make a fool of himself a hundred times over if it meant making her laugh. When they made it to town less than an hour later, he took a quick detour for a drink. They pulled up to the drive thru of the nearest coffee chain.

A scratchy voice came over the speaker. "Can I help you?"

Bellamy leaned out the window to order. "Can I get a large iced mocha?"

The scratchy voice came back. "Would you like whipped cream on that, sir?"

"Um, _yeah_." He turned to Clarke to add, "Duh." She was smiling at him in clear amusement. "What do you want?"

"A large black coffee, please."

"A  _large_?" He asked, feigning surprise.

She shook her head at him, smiling. "I don't mess around when it comes to my caffeine."

He motioned for her to make the order herself and she sighed at him again, but placed a small hand on his thigh to lean over him and make the order. Each time she willingly touched him in human form, he felt like he was taking a small step forward. This slow and steady approach was like torture for his wolf, though. Especially since he was in biting distance of that lovely curve of her slender neck.

As they pulled out of the drive-thru, Clarke's phone buzzed. She checked it and then made a small noise of displeasure.

"What's up?" He asked, sipping on his chocolate drink.

She sighed. "My friend - Wells - he just texted me that his meeting is running long. They're in Treelore, almost an hour from here. He won't make it."

"Oh," Bellamy said dumbly. Then, "Well, should we head back to Arkadia then?"

"No, no," Clarke said, waving her coffee in dismissal. "We drove all the way here, and his shop is still open. He has a store manager."

"Well, that's lucky," He said in an intentionally cheery tone.

"Yeah," She replied, looking sour.

The sudden mood change in the car was tangible, and Bellamy knocked her knee with his own. "Hey," He said when she looked at him. "We don't have to do the shopping thing today, if you don't want."

She smiled and returned his knee bump with her own. "That's sweet of you, but we're already here. And there are some really cool pieces."

She directed him down a few narrow cobblestone streets until they pulled to a stop across the way from an old wood-shingled building. A pieced-together sign read  _Ditto: A Consignment & Refurbishing Shop._

Bellamy held open the door for Clarke and noted the squaring of her shoulders, as if she was preparing for battle. The inside of the shop looked and smelled like an antique store, but it was lined with refurbished home fixtures instead of creaky old furniture. Painted, distressed wood shelves lined most of the walls, but every other bare space was covered with empty frames and random art. There was a stack of old doors to his right, and racks of metal fixtures all around. A bright, teal chandelier hung from the center of the room.

From somewhere in the back of the store, woman's voice called. "Be with you in just a second!"

Then, a harshly beautiful woman turned the corner, and her slight smile disappeared completely upon seeing them. "Clarke," She said, matter-of-factly instead of in greeting.

"Hi," Clarke said, a bit breathlessly.

_Okay, what._

His wolf was immediately on edge, and the whole situation made Bellamy suspicious. He immediately shifted closer to Clarke, just in case something wild happened and he needed to grab her and run. 

"Wells didn't tell you I was coming?" Clarke asked.

"He's in Treelore," The woman replied in the same factual tone. "Has been all morning."

"I know. His meeting is running long. He was supposed to meet us here, but..." Clarke trailed off.

"It's good to see you," The woman said after a beat of silence. Then, she stuck her hand out jarringly to Bellamy. "I'm Lexa."

"Oh god, I'm so rude," Clarke smiled helplessly. "Lexa, this is Bellamy Blake. He's a... _client_."

Bellamy rolled his eyes at the label. "And a friend. She just doesn't want to admit it yet."

He grabbed Lexa's hand. "A pleasure to meet you," He said smoothly, flashing a grin that usually made women blush.

Lexa simply blinked at him and dropped his hand.

Clarke spoke up, touching Bellamy's arm. "Lexa is a very talented interior decorator. She and Wells met a few years ago and opened this store recently and it's been amazingly popular."

"We recover reusable building materials from remodeling and demolition projects," Lexa said, waving her hand around the store. "And, through this store, our customers have in turn helped to find new homes for the material. This process provides both a more sustainable alternative to buying new and a means for passing on the stories that live in the homes and businesses in this region."

"Very cool," Bellamy said honestly.

"I think so," Lexa replied tersely. 

"Wells had offered to help me out because I've been having trouble finding local resources for the build," Clarke explained. "But hopefully he won't be too jealous that you're the one helping today instead."

"I'm sure it won't be an issue," Lexa said. "Let me pull up the plans for the house. I bet Wells has them on the computer somewhere."

She started for the back of the store, where Bellamy spied a large workbench with some stools and a widescreen Mac computer. 

He gently rested a hand on Clarke's lower back and was disappointed when she jumped at the contact. When she relaxed into his touch, he whispered, "Are you okay? You seem... tense."

"It's a long story," She said quickly. "Lexa and I go way back."

"Clarke?" Lexa called from the computer. "A word?"

"Sure," She said, casting a helpless look at Bellamy before starting for the back of the store.

Bellamy winked at her and tried to make himself busy looking at the many different pieces set around the store. He couldn't help eavesdropping, even though he definitely tried not to use his superhuman senses.

"How've you been?" Lexa asked in a low tone Bellamy knew he wasn't meant to hear. 

"Good," Clarke replied. "Really good."

"I'm glad," Lexa said, and to her credit, she sounded genuine. "So tell me about him."

"Oh, um," Clarke said, and Bellamy felt both women's eyes on him. "He's got the most magnificent lodge just outside of Arkadia. It's got so much potential-"

"Clarke, I meant tell me about  _him._ Not his house."

Clarke huffed. "I don't know what you mean. He's a model client and seems content to just let me take the reigns on the design. I really-"

"Jesus," Lexa snapped. "You're impossible."

"Why are you so interested in him?" Clarke asked. She almost sounded... territorial. Bellamy's wolf hummed with satisfaction.

"Because  _you_ are," Lexa replied. Then, "Please don't make that ridiculous surprised face. It's not flattering."

"Lexa, I think you have the wrong idea."

"I'm happy you've moved on, Clarke, I mean that. You deserve someone who... understands you."

The way she said 'understands' made Bellamy's throat constrict. "Does he?" She continued. "Understand you?"

It was silent for a moment, and then, "Yes, he does."

"Good," Lexa said with finality. "Here's the refurbished cherry I hope Wells told you about."

They talked for a while about flooring and bathrooms and a lot of less interesting things than the beginning of their conversation, and Bellamy tried to calm the spinning in his head. What did Lexa mean by _understand?_ What was to understand about Clarke that no one else would? The answer was obvious, but he didn't want to think into it too much. Instead, he wandered around the store absently until Clarke finally called him over to ask his opinion on everything they had just gone through. She determinedly avoided looking him in the eye during the entire back and forth, which, if it wasn't so frustrating, would have been impressive.

When they finally got through the list Clarke had brought, she suggested they all go to lunch, inviting Lexa along with them. He caught Lexa's eye at the question and gave a minute shake of his head. Apparently, Lexa received the message because she politely declined the offer and then stared at Bellamy for some time afterward, the ghost of a smile dancing around her mouth.

Bellamy was quiet the entire way to the truck, but Clarke marched along in front of him like nothing had happened. As soon as they were a safe distance away from the store Bellamy broke. "What did she mean when she asked if I understand you?"

"What?" She called over her shoulder.

"She said you deserved someone who  _understands_ you."

Clarke looked briefly horrified and then affronted. "Were you eavesdropping?"

"As if you couldn't hear me sneeze from a hundred yards away," He said good-naturedly. "What did she mean?"

She finally stopped as they neared the truck. "I'm going to pretend you're not asking this question.

" _Clarke._ "

She sighed. "She knows. About me, I mean. I was nineteen and so, so lost. I had never told a single soul about what I really was. I thought we were in love, and so I told her. She did not react well, which, I mean, is no surprise. There's no protocol for what to do when your girlfriend turns into a giant wolf."

"You  _shifted_ in front of her?" He couldn't hide his shock.

"What, is there some ominous golden rule about keeping our kind a secret? Yes, Bellamy, I shifted in front of her."

Bellamy was pretty sure there wasn't some golden rule about not revealing their kind to humans, but he'd just never heard of it being done. It was just something that was... understood.

"Are you upset?" Clarke asked, interrupting his thoughts. She nibbled her bottom lip nervously.

"No," He said quickly. Then, grinning, "How could I be? I  _understand_ you."

Her mouth popped open in surprise and she shoved at him, feigning offense. "Yeah, right-" Before she could finish, he grabbed her hand and gently yanked her back towards him, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her tightly up against his body. She gasped, her eyes widening in surprise and her hands coming up to press against his chest. He had to lean down to get face to face. Her breathing stuttered as his lips neared hers and he could feel her heart racing behind the breasts pressed deliciously against his abdomen.

Just before their lips touched, he spoke, very softly and intently, "Let the record show that I want nothing more than to  _understand_ you. In fact, there's nothing I'd rather do than spend the rest of the day  _understanding_ you." She gaped at him in shock, unable to form a response or even pull away. Could she really not know how captivated he was by her? His free hand trailed up her back to grasp the base of her braid, tilting her head to the side to give him better access to her neck. He leaned in to brush his lips across up the soft skin there, trailing them up to her ear lobe as he spoke. "If you'd let me."

He released her quickly and made his way to the driver's side of the truck. When he turned back she was still standing frozen in the street. She blinked a few times before slowly wandering over to him, her eyes glazed over. He grinned in triumph; surely, she had to know how he felt about her now.

He opened the door for her and she quietly climbed in. After several minutes of dazedly staring out the front window while he drove, she must have finally snapped out of her stupor.

"Where are we going?" Her voice was hoarse and she cleared her throat after speaking.

Bellamy's mood was better than it had been in hours – even better than when they'd arrived so cheerily in Kettle Falls. "To lunch."

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's me, back from the dead!!! Happy almost Halloween; I hope you enjoy this chapter because I lost it among my drafts and had to spend like two hours rifling through word docs to find it (L O L I'm a garbage human being I'm sorry).
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is a little treat to tide everyone over because the next chapter.... Oh boy guys, it was my favorite chapter to write. As always, your feedback blows me away and fuels the fire of this insane trash heap. Please comment and let me know what you think :)

**_Clarke_ **

 

Clarke was still staring out the front glass of Bellamy's truck, barely registering the passing of buildings and cars and trees. On the outside she might seem composed, but inside her mind and body were reeling.

That lingering moment of his lips so close to hers, the length of their bodies pressed together and the feel of his lips on her skin kept replaying itself over and over in her head. She was afraid she might not ever be able to rid herself of the fire Bellamy had just ignited in her. His chest had been so hard, so firm and solid under her hands. She loved the way her body had molded against his so easily, a perfect fit. And how he'd spoken to her... She knew _exactly_ what he meant when he said he wanted to  _understand_ her. There was no way he couldn't smell the desire on her in this tiny truck cab, and Clarke clenched her hands into fists, pressing her fingernails into the palms of her hands in an attempt to focus on something other than the intense lust coursing through her veins.

The man was so exasperating. Just when she thought they were on a level playing field, he would change all the rules. They were supposed to be  _just_  friends. See, friends she could handle. Anything more than that, and she felt unsettled and out of control. Her mind was still desperately trying to put order to the chaos she was feeling.

So, yes - he was attracted to her. And  _obviously_  vice versa - if one could deduce as much from the ridiculous ease with which her body reacted to him. So what? He was a  _client_ ; for God's sake, he was  _paying her._ If anything happened between them... not only would it be wildly inappropriate, but she'd basically be soliciting sex for money. Giving into whatever this feeling, this instinct to rip off all his clothes and jump him right there in the truck, it was 100% not an option. 

And then there was the issue of feelings. Clarke very rarely engaged in sex  _without_ feelings attached, so why would this situation be any different?

_Because it wouldn't be just sex, would it?_

She didn't want to think about. It made her stomach flip in strange ways…..but what if?  _I understand you._ All innuendos aside, he did. He knew her on a more intimate level than anyone in her whole life, even Lexa. And they'd hardly know each other for more than a month.

Her wolf whined.  _He_ wants _us, you idiot! Like we want him._

She risked a glance at him then, as he casually drove them towards lunch, completely oblivious to her inner turmoil.

She sighed and began chewing on her thumb.  _Like we want him._ That truth right there is what terrified Clarke to death. Because she did want him. Badly. And it gave him power. This wolf had the full power to wreck her if she let him. And she wasn't sure she could handle the aftermath. She could cope with being friends because it didn't involve her heart. But anything more was petrifying.

 _Stop it!_ Why did this have to be so complicated? She was a grown woman for God's sake. She could handle a man being attracted to her without becoming a basket-case. When else would she ever get the chance to be with someone like Bellamy – a strong, incredibly good-looking, funny  _werewolf_? And bonus, he was attracted to  _her_. And Bellamy didn't seem torn up about that at all.

Finally, something clicked deep down within her twin souls and all at once it was as if everything was crystal clear. She was lying to herself if she didn't think she was already hopelessly in lust with this man, if not half in love. Why was she denying herself anything he would be willing to give? Fuck the reasons not to – she didn't care anymore. Her wolf howled in agreement.

She turned to Bellamy, a smile creeping onto her face as she let herself admire his strong profile and the way he drove so confidently. He did everything confidently. She could do that, too.

He turned to glance down at her, feeling the weight of her stare and gave her one of those cocky, heart-melting smiles.

She returned his smile happily, relishing the feeling of her lips fearlessly stretching from ear to ear. Yes, she would take whatever he wanted to give her and not be sorry about it.

She turned, tucking her feet to the side and under a pile of Bellamy's clothes, leaning into his side. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the smell of him just because she wanted to and then slipped a hand into the crook of his elbow and set her chin on his shoulder. She was surprised how easy it was - pretending not to fear any of the consequences.

"I have an idea."

Bellamy's eyes narrowed and his head cocked just barely to the side, obviously trying to pinpoint the sudden change in her behavior. "Oh?"

"Let's hunt our lunch."

He paused in surprise before turning to check the sincerity of her suggestion. "Really? I thought we had more errands."

"I can do them later. You promised me a run, if I remember." She lifted an eyebrow at him in challenge and watched him smile in profile.

"I did." He glanced in the rear-view mirror, making a signal to turn on the next road that would take them to the highway and back towards their home territory.

"Are you going to catch me a deer again?"

He laughed. "Whatever you want, Princess. But I'll probably need your help again."

He moved the hand that had been lazily lying on his leg over to hers, his fingers spanning the width of her thigh before he tightened his grip and squeezed her leg.

Clarke was careful to control her breathing and focus on the conversation. Not the heat of his hand or the strength of his grip, or the notion that he could slide that hand up higher and… She shook her head. "You took her down by yourself."

His eyes slid down to hers where her chin was still firmly perched on his shoulder. "Yeah, but she was too fast for me. I wouldn't have caught her without you."

Her face warmed from his praise and she smiled up at him. "I was still impressed."

He laughed. "You know, I think your wolf likes me better than you do."

He was always so blatantly honest.

She laughed and shook her head, her arm still tucked into his and her head resting against his shoulder.

Ignoring the nervous butterflies and adrenaline rush that warned her that this was dangerous; she leaned in closer to him, pressing her nose into the collar of Bellamy's shirt. She mimicked the way he'd tortured her earlier, dragging her lips up his neck to the shell of his ear. She took her sweet time too, enjoying the shiver of pleasure that ran down his spine. She didn't have to fake the huskiness of her voice when she whispered:

"No, she just knows you  _understand_ her. I'm a different story."

His hand was practically bruising her thigh, then, and his Adam's apple bobbed heavily. When he spoke, he glanced at her, his eyes dark and his voice tight. "I'll have to work on that, won't I?"

She leaned back against the seat, unable to fight off a satisfied grin. "Yes, I suppose you will."

* * *

They'd gotten back to Arkadia later than expected, and after a sweet goodbye from Bellamy, albeit hastier than she'd liked, she'd dashed inside like a madwoman to rinse off the dirt and mud from their run. After a quick shower and making a meal for the hungry pups, she managed to make it early to her parent's condo downtown, relieved to smell mostly like soap and her own natural fragrance.

As she ascended the steps to her parents' front door, she could only be grateful that she no longer had to live here and was free to roam the secluded woods of her little cabin whenever she liked. When she unlocked the door, her nose was assaulted with the smell of roasting chicken and herb vegetables and the comforting powdery scent of her mother. She noted her father's absence and automatically wandered towards the kitchen, knowing she would find her mom there even if she couldn't sense her location by smell and sound.

She made sure to exaggerate her movements and bang some things on the way in. She had learned early that her mother hated being spooked, and Clarke had the uncanny ability to sneak up on her without a sound.

Her mother turned as she entered and smiled. "Clarke, how are you?" Her mother eyed her speculatively, turning away from her task at the counter to examine her more closely before announcing, "You look…..different."

Clarke raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Have I gained weight?"

It was kind of a running joke between them. Her mother always complained that Clarke never gained weight and doggedly tried to feed her at every opportunity.

Abby made an indignant sound at the comment before cocking her head to the side and setting her a hand on her hip, thinking. "No, that's definitely not it. You look… flushed. A bit extra color on you, maybe."

Clarke turned away from her mother to hide her blush, carefully setting her laptop bag down on the breakfast table. For not being part animal or biologically related, she certainly had a keen sense about her adopted daughter. "I think it's just because I slept well, Mom."

Her mother hummed in consideration, obviously completely disregarding Clarke's excuse. When she noticed Clarke's bag she asked, "You're not working again this weekend are you?" She clucked in disapproval. "This new project of yours seems to be taking up too much of your time."

"No, Mom. I just had some…papers I wanted to give Dad."

Her father came in while they finished the meal and were setting it on the table. He sat at the head and let Clarke serve him, but before she sat herself, she leaned down to kiss his cheek affectionately and he squeezed the hand she'd placed on his shoulder. "Hi, Dad."

"Hello, daughter." He replied with exaggerated formality.

Clarke giggled and a small smile cracked the corner of his face.

At home there was a softness about her father that was absent at work. In the office he always held himself stiff and reserved; he expected a certain amount of respect at all times from the people around him, Clarke included. At home however, he was much more relaxed than any other time, even about business matters. She was sure it had everything to do with Abby. He adored his wife. Everything he did was for her.

Her mother had told Clarke their story once when she was young. Apparently, Abby had been born to a wealthy and well-to-do family – the only daughter of several sons. Jake Griffin on the other hand had almost nothing. Of course, he'd worked hard to receive an education and had obviously become a successful architect. But her mother had fallen in love with him long before all that. They'd had to run away to be married, much to her family's regret. After hearing it, Clarke had remembered being in awe of the idea of the hardworking, often goofy man she knew as a dashing young man, romantically sweeping a sweet, little rich girl off her feet and whisking her away to be his.

But sometimes Clarke could see it in his eyes by the way he looked at her mother.

It had taken time and some maturity, but Clarke had managed to distance herself from her father's habits. He loved easily and openly, and she reciprocated fully, but only with her family. It had helped her to create that balance in her life she hadn't always had; including creating distance in some of her relationships over the years. But those who really mattered had always managed to find a way to bridge that space she put between them.

In truth, she could probably count the number that really mattered on one hand - they were either sitting at this table or wagging their tails in her backyard.  _Or somewhere in Polis doing important alpha things._

As they ate, Clarke's mother picked up on their conversation from earlier as if it hadn't been half an hour ago. "How is the project coming along with that man? The one that called you a few weeks ago?"

The question was directed at Clarke but her eyes slid slyly to her father to see if he had some reaction to the flippant comment about Bellamy calling. It was a perfectly acceptable thing to do since they were working so closely, but the recent turn of their relationship was still making her feel guilty. She slowly swallowed the bite of chicken she was chewing before answering.

"It's going well."  _Really well_. She turned to her father to distract herself from the vivid events of that morning deciding to spontaneously replay in her mind. "Dad, Bellamy….um, I mean, Mr. Blake said that he'll be out of town for next week, so to reschedule the design presentation and the final budget review if you're able."

Her mother piped in before her father even opened his mouth. "Mr. Blake? Oh! Is that the project for the Blake family? " Her mother continued without a response from either of them. "When you said it was a local project, Jake, I didn't even think of them. Are they moving back?"

Clarke blinked at her mother. "You know the Blakes?"

Her father's calm, gentle voice broke through her astonishment and her mother's excitement. "No, Abby – it's for their son, Bellamy. He's remodeling their previous family home – the one out near the cabin."

"Oh, how wonderful. That place was always so gorgeous. And huge!" She turned to Clarke. "Clarke, honey, they were such good people. They always had several families living with them….although; it  _was_  a rather big house. It would have been a waste of space not to use it….. "

"Unfortunately they moved away, right before we were so blessed by you." Abby always referred to Clarke's appearance on their doorstep as their 'blessing.' "Their oldest must be, what? Late twenties, maybe even thirty now? I bet he's an attractive man, all grown up, right Clarke?"

Clarke's wide eyes blinked at her mother before darting to her father. His fork had paused in front of his mouth, his eyes turning to hers in sudden interest of her thoughts on the matter when he'd never had any concern for her opinion of boys in the past.

She blinked, and then, "Y-Yes. He's very handsome."

She had tried to play off her response as nonchalant and impartial, but she was afraid she had failed miserably. Her cheeks burned and a quick glance to her mother showed her eyes twinkling in amusement, a small smile lingering on her lips - like she'd figured something out that she'd known all along, but hadn't quite worked out until now. Clarke bowed her head over her food, suddenly famished and desperate to inhale the meal in front of her. But she hadn't missed the narrowing of her father's eyes, his heavy stare indicating his brain was working overtime on an intriguing puzzle.

After a quiet moment, her father said, "A reschedule is fine if you want to set up the presentation with Bellamy. See if sometime midweek would be alright."

She nodded without looking up. "I'll email him soon."

She knew from the way his eyes lingered on her that he wasn't quite finished working that puzzle out. But she avoided the topic and her mother thankfully moved on to something new, so Clarke joined in enthusiastically – anything to deflect attention from the embarrassing conversation that had just occurred. Her father was quiet, but that wasn't entirely out of the ordinary so she wasn't sure yet if it was cause for alarm. An hour later, she managed to escape the condo without any more pressing questions about Bellamy or the project, much to her relief.

* * *

Bellamy was in Polis for the week, but he promised her multiple times Monday evening when he dropped her off that he'd be back Wednesday and they could go for a run. Even after she insisted he didn't need to be doing all that driving, he persisted until she gave in and agreed to meet up with him Wednesday evening. The enthusiastic way he'd kissed her on the cheek and then peppered kisses along her jaw until she practically had to push him off her didn't hurt his case either. 

She'd planned on just seeing him Wednesday, but Bellamy was a surprisingly consistent communicator, if her phone activity was any indication.

On Tuesday:

 **Text Message**  from **Bellamy Blake**

 **Bellamy Blake:** Hi, friend.

 **Clarke Griffin:** Hi.

 **Bellamy Blake:** are you busy?

 **Clarke Griffin:** Just errands

 **Bellamy Blake:** My truck still smells like you. Have I told you how amazing you smell?

 **Clarke Griffin:** …

 **Bellamy Blake:** You're blushing aren't you?

 **Clarke Griffin:** Are you texting and driving? That's dangerous

 **Bellamy Blake:** Lol. I'll take that as you not wanting me to die.

 **Clarke Griffin:** Only so you can see the final plans when you get back

 **Bellamy Blake:** Sure, Princess ;)

On Wednesday morning, she'd felt bold enough to text him:

 **Clarke Griffin:** What are your thoughts on stained concrete?

 **Bellamy Blake:** I don't believe I've ever thought about stained concrete

 **Clarke Griffin: F** or the house lol. It would be more durable than wood floors. Considering the number of canines that might be trekking across it….

 **Bellamy Blake:** Good point. If you like it, then do it

 **Clarke Griffin:** You're the easiest client I've ever had

 **Bellamy Blake:** Really? Am I the best-looking, too?

 **Clarke Griffin:** Oh, definitely :) Except than one Mennonite guy that had a kick-ass beard

 **Bellamy Blake:** Hey, I can grow a beard

 **Clarke Griffin:** Lol. I like your scruff

 **Bellamy Blake:** My scruff likes you

 **Clarke Griffin:** …

 **Bellamy Blake:** I wish I was there to see you blushing

 **Clarke Griffin:** Shut up.

Later that morning, Clarke's phone rang.

 **Incoming Call** from  **Bellamy Blake**

She grabbed for it immediately, not even a little embarrassed at how quickly she answered. "Hello?"

"Hey," His voice was hoarse, and he sounded relieved that she answered.

"Is everything okay?"

He huffed. "Yeah, fine. Well, not really." Another sigh. "I won't make it to Arkadia tonight."

"Oh," She let the sound slip out before she could help it.

"I've got to finish a build for a client. I thought we'd be done by Friday, but it's looking like we have to assemble, take apart and reassemble inside. Gonna be a bit more of a project than expected. Probably will work through the weekend."

"I'm sorry, that sounds like a pain," She said with genuine sympathy.

"Oh, I don't care about that. I just want to see you."

Her whole face warmed and she couldn't fight a smile. "Me too," She said softly.

"How are you?"

"Good, just making adjustments to the plans."

He laughed. "I think you're working too much."

She shifted so that she was sitting more comfortably in her desk chair and glanced around to make sure nobody else in the office was around to eavesdrop. "Me? You just said you could be working through the weekend. I think you've been driving back and forth too much. You should take a break."

"Are you tired of me already?" His tone was teasing in the way she'd come to like so much.

"No, not at all," She admitted boldly.

"So you  _do_ want to see me."

It was more of a statement than a question, but she answered anyway. "Maybe."

"I promise I'll be there next weekend. I'll cancel the job if I have to."

 **"** Don't do that. Then you won't be able to pay me."

He laughed again. "True." Some sawing sounds echoed in the background of wherever he was, and he continued. "I gotta go, Princess. I'll text you."

"Okay," She said, strangely disappointed that the call was cut short. "Bye."

"See you this weekend," And the call ended.

That was Wednesday. On Thursday, they exchanged a few emails.

 **Email**  from  **Clarke Griffin**

_Dear Bellamy:_

_It is my understanding you are a talented craftsman. Please see attached for a detailed kitchen design including cabinetry for a very important client. You've been highly recommended by him as a possible builder for this project. Please review this design and return your bid on this project ASAP._

_Regards,_

_Clarke Griffin_

_Griffin Architecture_

**Email** from  **Bellamy Blake**

_Miss Griffin,_

_I'd be happy to work on this project with you. I will return the bid early next week. Nice job on the design, by the way. I'd love to hear your opinion on my work as opposed to this 'client' person. I've attached a picture of a reclaimed wood table I recently finished. Perhaps you will deem it worthy enough to put in this kitchen, as well._

_Bellamy_

She gasped out loud when she'd opened the picture he attached. The table was perfect for the space she'd designed; it was as if he'd read her mind. She pulled out her phone, not even caring that she was at work and needed to be professional.

 **Text** from **Clarke Griffin**

 **Clarke Griffin:** Bellamy! The table is amazing!

 **Bellamy Blake:**  You like it?

 **Clarke Griffin:** Yes! Like seriously, I'm so impressed.

 **Bellamy Blake:**  Wow. I've impressed Clarke Griffin. That is amazing

 **Clarke Griffin:** You're making me rethink the cabinets. Like maybe you should design and build them?

 **Bellamy Blake:**  What? No - I like what you did.

 **Clarke Griffin: A** re you sure? It won't hurt my feelings at all!

 **Bellamy Blake:**  I'm 100% positive

 **Clarke Griffin:** Ok. Can you do some open shelving in the living room, too? In the same style of the table?

 **Bellamy Blake:**  slave driver

 **Clarke Griffin:** :) I want to put a sort of loft above the office for storage and a smaller intimate seating area

 **Bellamy Blake:**  whatever you want, princess

 **Clarke Griffin: T** hank you :) I'll send you the specs

Then, on Friday:

 **Bellamy Blake:** what are you doing?

 **Clarke Griffin:** Thinking about running with the pups.

 **Bellamy Blake:** damn. wish I was there

 **Clarke Griffin:** Me too. Although I think Zula is content without you.

 **Bellamy Blake:** Ha! so she still hates me?

 **Clarke Griffin:** Only when you're here :)

 **Bellamy Blake:** Maybe I'll grow on her…. like I did you

 **Clarke Griffin:** Who said you were growing on me?

 **Bellamy Blake:** Your wolf told me. Boy do I miss her…

 **Clarke Griffin:** She's mad at you

 **Bellamy Blake:** for?

 **Clarke Griffin:** Not coming to run with her this week

 **Bellamy Blake:** I can be there in 2 hours

 **Clarke Griffin:** Bellamy don't! It's too late for you to be driving. I was kidding about being mad

 **Bellamy Blake:** …

 **Clarke Griffin:** I'm serious, you better not drive here or I will be mad

 **Bellamy Blake:** Fine. But don't break my heart like that anymore

 **Clarke Griffin:** You don't make me worry like that anymore.

 **Bellamy Blake:** I'll try :)

 **Clarke Griffin:** Go to sleep - you have to work tomorrow

 **Bellamy Blake:** Yeah Be careful in the forest, little one

 **Clarke Griffin:** Yes, Mr. Blake 

The weekend and the following week dragged by, and it was stupid, but Clarke missed him. She'd gone running a few times alone and multiple times with the pups, but she missed his presence beside her, out in the woods. She'd run through his property a couple times as well, hoping to catch his scent, but it was faint and did not satisfy her wolf as much as she wanted. 

She was sitting at home watching TV on Thursday night when her phone buzzed.

 **Text Message** from  **Bellamy Blake**

 **Bellamy Blake:** Is it Saturday yet?

 **Clarke Griffin:** Is that when you're coming up?

 **Bellamy Blake:** Yes.

 **Clarke Griffin:** I think I've forgotten what you look like.

 **Bellamy Blake:** Shall I send you a picture?

 **Clarke Griffin:** Lol. If I try hard enough, I think I can remember. Should I imagine you with or without scruff?

 **Bellamy Blake:** Today? No scruff. Should I tell you what I'm wearing?

 **Clarke Griffin:** You are so dirty

 **Bellamy Blake:** Oh, Princess. You have no idea.

 **Clarke Griffin:** …

 **Bellamy Blake:** You know, my truck has lost its Clarke smell. I need you to refresh it

 **Clarke Griffin:** Do you enjoy making me uncomfortable?

 **Bellamy Blake:** LOL Yes.

 **Clarke Griffin:** You are impossible.

 **Bellamy Blake:** You shouldn't be embarrassed. I love your smell. Especially after I get you a little worked up.

 **Clarke Griffin:** Oh my god. This conversation is over.

 **Bellamy Blake:** Hahahaha I bet you are so red.

 **Clarke Griffin:** I'm blocking this number. 

 **Bellamy Blake:** I'm sorry. I just can't help teasing you…

An hour later, she was making dinner, and he texted her again. 

 **Bellamy Blake:** Are you still mad?

 **Clarke Griffin:** Yes. Kind of

 **Bellamy Blake:** I'll make it up to you. I found something interesting in a Norse mythology book from my Mother's library

 **Clarke Griffin:** Oh?

 **Bellamy Blake:** About two wolves named Sköll and Hati that chase the sun and moon.

 **Clarke Griffin:** Really?

 **Bellamy Blake:** Yeah. I haven't found the picture yet but I'm still looking. It sounds like it though, right?

 **Clarke Griffin:** Yes, very much

 **Bellamy Blake:** I'll bring you the book on Saturday

 **Clarke Griffin:** Thank you, Bellamy. Really, I appreciate it so much

 **Bellamy Blake:** anything for you, princess

 **Clarke Griffin:** I'm not mad anymore :)

 **Bellamy Blake:** Good

She emailed him on Saturday just for the hell of it, her hands trembling with excitement for that night. After almost two weeks, they were going to see each other. Her wolf rumbled with happiness, and she couldn't even be bothered to try and tamp it down. 

 **Email** from  **Clarke Griffin**

_Mr. Blake,_

_I'm happy to inform you that I've finished the preliminary design for your interior home renovation. Attached is a 3D design in a .wav format, where you can watch a tour of the proposed changes to your home. If you are agreeable, I will submit this design to the principal architect for approval and tendering. Next step will be a budget review and then production of construction documents for the bid. I have already received a bid from your requested carpenter and will include it in the budget review for your approval._

_Happy Friday_

_Clarke Griffin_

_P.S. See you later :)_

_7 pm right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed and it wasn't too hard to follow. I had a hard time figuring out the best way to format text messages and emails. COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED BUT NOT DESERVED. THANKS :----)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, me again. Remember me? It's okay, I don't either. I'M SO SORRY FOR ABANDONING EVERYONE. Holidays ar crazy y'all.
> 
> I hope this chapter makes up for my long absence (as always it is SUPER UNEDITED because I'm lazy). Hopefully I never disappear that long again.
> 
> Also um wow I seriously still cry at each and every one of these comments? This is my first multi-chaptered fic and your feedback just honestly means so much to me so, thank you, for real. I love y'all. 
> 
> Enjoy xx

_**Bellamy** _

 

Bellamy cursed himself for glancing at the broken clock on the wall _again_ , but his phone had died hours ago and he couldn't find the charger. Currently, his two closest packmates were arguing insistently at each other in Bellamy's father's office. Rhys Blake was noticeably absent from the room, citing some sorry excuse about Aurora needing him to fix the hinge on a kitchen cabinet. Bellamy knew better; his father was offering up his personal office for Bellamy to hold an official pack meeting, one of his first ever. 

Raven and Miller were currently the only ones present. They would ultimately be the only ones following him to Arkadia. Nathan had made a promise to him when they were just teenagers ( _"I'll follow you anywhere, Blake"),_ but Raven had surprised him. Her parents had died when she and Bellamy were eighteen, and he knew she would go off on her own for a while to mourn. She did, heading north towards Alberta, where she had a run-in with some nomads who were quick to jump her. 

Bellamy found her days later on one of his more adventurous runs, her hind leg badly mangled. He carried her some twenty miles back to the pack house, and they didn't speak of the entire ordeal, even after she had recovered. It wasn't until months later, after a pack dinner, that she thanked him and swore her loyalty to him. 

Somehow, both Miller and Raven had known Bellamy would need their loyalty, even before he himself did. He was indebted to them both. 

"We've never made contact with the Nahanni pack before," Raven said, leaning forward in her chair. "How do we know they're not hostile?"

"They're seeking  _asylum,_ Raven," Miller said with a groan.

"We don't know that for sure. We don't know  _anything_ for sure," Raven gestured wildly with her hands as she always did when she got passionate. "The Polis pack has grown in ranks in the last fifty years, and our numbers are still increasing. That probably hasn't gone unnoticed. Right?"

Bellamy nodded and scratched absentmindedly at the stubble that coated his chin. "Right... So?"

Raven huffed. " _So,_ what if Nahanni sees Polis as a threat?"

"That's ridiculous," Miller snapped. "Our territory doesn't even come close to the Canadian border. Nahanni is in the Northwest Territories."

"But reps from the Calgary pack have intercepted some of their scouts as far south as Jasper."

"Miller," Bellamy said, looking to his Beta. "What do you think?"

Miller shifted in his seat. "I think... The female is pregnant, and they are obviously trying to get out for some reason. You could give them asylum for at least a few months, feel them out, and then decide."

Bellamy pointedly looked at Raven to gauge her reaction. She made an exasperated noise deep in her throat and threw her hands into the air. "Fine, fine, whatever. We all know you're gonna go with his suggestion anyway."

"Great, I'll draft a letter later this week and they can stay in Arkadia during the renovations, or we can put them up in a hotel." Bellamy stood up and started frantically shoving contracts and papers into his briefcase. To say he was eager to get back to Arkadia would be an understatement. 

Raven and Miller watched him with mild interest. "Tell Clarke hello," Raven said, sitting back in her chair with a satisfied smirk.

Bellamy scowled at her. He had, in a moment of weakness when he was desperately missing Clarke, told them about her. They hadn't asked as many questions as he'd anticipated. Instead, Miller's expression had softened while Bellamy spilled his guts out, and Raven simply smiled. When he'd finally told them all the basic bits, leaving out the fact that his wolf wanted to do very not-suitable-for-work things to Clarke, Raven full-on grinned.

"Oh, Blake," She'd said sympathetically. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Bellamy had tried not to read too much into what she was implying. Now, he snapped his briefcase shut and flipped Raven the bird as he all but sprinted out of the house.

While on the road, he managed to tear apart his glove box, literally breaking the door off while searching for a charger that wasn't there. Resigned to not being able to call Clarke at all, he sped through the pouring rain with a goal of making it to Arkadia in an hour and a half – a drive that usually took at least two when it wasn't dark  _and_ pouring outside. He would have made it, too, if there hadn't been a cop hiding out on Highway 94.

Bellamy tore through the front door and into his vacant house before a feeling of defeat pressed down on him. Clarke's smell still hung in the air, and on the counter were two empty beer bottles, discarded without a proper place to throw them away. A half empty basket sat next to them with something wrapped up in paper inside that smelled suspiciously like food. Bellamy hadn't eaten in about ten hours and his stomach rumbled at the appetizing scent.

Clarke's car was outside, but maybe she'd decided to run home, tired of waiting for him. As he turned to go get his bags from the truck, Clarke appeared from around the corner, her hair mussed and her clothes rumpled as if she'd just woken up from a nap.

Goddess, she was a sight for sore eyes.

His wolf devoured the sight and smell of her before his eyes wandered down the hallway behind her to the master bedroom. Had she been asleep in his bed? The thought made him completely forget his previous hunger and ignited a new one. He desperately wanted to throw her over his shoulder and spend the rest of the night in bed with her.

At the very least he wanted to gather her up in his arms and bury his face in her scent - just to try and wash away the entire horrific day.

"Bellamy…you're here." Her voice was hoarse and confused. She blinked as if not really believing he was standing there, but then the fire lit in her eyes.

"I know, I know. I am so sorry. You have no idea how hard I've been trying to get here." He stepped forward, and she crossed her arms, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

"Where were you?" She demanded. "Do you know what time it is? I've been worried sick about you! You didn't even call -"

She stopped abruptly when she saw him smile. He honestly tried to fight it, but the urge was too strong. " _What?_ " She snapped. "This is not funny!"

"You were worried about me?" He asked, stepping forward again. 

She huffed, sending a loose piece of blonde hair flying into the air, and said, "Yes, of course," as if it was the simplest, most obvious thing in the world. 

Goddess, he was so, so gone for this wolf. It took every ounce of his self-control as he reached out to gently grasp her by the elbows and pull her closer so he could explain how sorry he was. She let him, her angry expression giving way as her eyes searched his weary face. Her arms dropped from her chest, and and she set a hand on his forearm. 

"Well, are you okay?"

He hummed in affirmation. "I'm fine." It was an understatement. He was a million times better now that he was here with her, but she looked as if she didn't believe him. This was going to take a lot of explaining. "I actually don't know what time it is..." He said sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes and pulled her phone out of her pocket to show him. "It's almost ten."

Shit. He was three hours late. Bellamy walked over to the counter next to the fridge and pulled a phone charger out of the top drawer, plugging his phone in at the same time he held it up for her to see. "Dead. Since who knows when and I had no way to charge it."

He walked back to where she had leant against the kitchen counter and he slumped down into the solitary stool in his kitchen with a regretful sigh. He wasn't sure where to start, but he knew he better start somewhere judging by the hurt and distrust in her posture.

"We had a pack meeting right after work. I tried to text you but my phone was in Miller's truck and it had died by the time I got it back. I left the meeting as soon as I could, but then I didn't have my car charger."

"A pack meeting?" Her voice was laced with worry.

"Yes. Me, my beta and our other member."

"There are only three of you?" Her forehead wrinkled in confusion.

She handed him the beer, and he took it, opening it with the heel of his palm. "Yeah," He said. "I'm, uh, leaving my father's pack. I don't think I've told you that yet."

"No," She said, opening her own beer. "You haven't." 

He set the beer on the counter and reached for her hand. "I guess I have a lot to fill you in about, don't I? Also, I really am so sorry I'm late and didn't call."

She smiled a tiny smile that was pure forgiveness. "It's okay." Then she gave his hand a sharp squeeze. "But  _don't_ make it a habit. My nerves can't take it."

He grinned into the lip of his beer at the subtle mention of a future where they came home to each other. 

She pulled her hand away gesturing around the empty house uncertainly and not really looking at him. "I wasn't sure if I should leave or not….but I was so worried and there wasn't anywhere to really sit comfortably, so I just…..sat on your bed for awhile."

Bellamy reached up to smooth a few stray hairs away from her face and Clarke self-consciously moved to smooth her ponytail.

"Did you fall asleep?" A tiny smile played at the corners of his lips when she nodded.

He pulled on her hand again, so she would be standing between his outstretched legs. The stool was low enough that they were almost face to face. If he tugged just a little bit farther he could slip a hand around her waist and pull her flush against him. Then he would only have to lift his lips a few inches to reach hers.

"Clarke…. Please don't be upset," He swallowed, preparing himself for rejection. "But I'm going to kiss you now." 

She blinked at him with wide eyes, not moving a muscle, but her heartbeat picked up again in anticipation. When he leaned in, his cell phone echoed loudly in the cavernous house. Neither of them flinched. 

"Are you gonna get that?" Clarke whispered.

He could feel her breath against his face as he leaned in. "Not a chance."

"Good," She said, and kissed him.

He was so shocked for a moment that he didn't move, his mouth frozen against hers, and she must've noticed because she started to pull away. When his brain finally started working, he eagerly wound his arms around her waist and tugged her forward, pressing his lips against hers more firmly. 

Her lips parted in a sweet little gasp that shot straight to his groin, and she braced herself with her hands against his chest. His hand slid down her neck, her shoulder, the curve of her back, finally resting on the swell of her hip. Despite his impatience, Bellamy took his time, savoring the satiny feel of her lips by sucking them each into his mouth one after the other and then dragging his tongue across the wet seam between them.

Clarke sighed into his mouth, as if in relief, and Bellamy couldn't have agreed more. His heart was pounding and his jeans were excruciatingly tight when he finally pulled away. 

Clarke, for her part, looked as wrecked as he did. Her mouth was red and her lips wet, and her chest was heaving. He couldn't resist leaning in and kissing her again, just briefly before she pushed him away.

"Bellamy," She said breathlessly, and for a moment she looked at a loss for words.

"Yeah," He said, moving to take her hands in his. "Me too."

She flushed bright red and squeezed his hand. "Don't think you're forgiven for earlier."

"I would never," He said in mock offense, pulling her close once again. He slid a hand up the back of her neck and spoke into her ear. "How can I make it up to you?"

She shivered, and he felt goosebumps rise on her skin. She stepped away from him and took off her jacket, and moved towards the back porch. As she reached for the hem of her shirt, she grinned. "You can run with me."

Bellamy was at the door in seconds, his hands pressed firmly over hers where she was still tugging up her shirt, a bit of skin exposed above her jeans. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," He said, low and threatening.

Her smile widened, and Bellamy was so, so fucked. 

He chased her into the woods, catching just a glimpse of her naked body before she shifted. 

Much later, after Clarke had insisted he go ahead of her into the house so she could put her clothes back on in private, they stumbled into the kitchen, wrapped up in the scent and feel of each other. He lifted Clarke onto the counter and moved to stand between her legs. They had one single night before he was gone again. The thought alone of leaving made him miserable.

Clarke yawned and smiled softly. "It's late, I should probably get going."

"Hell no," He blurted. "You are not leaving. I haven't seen you for two weeks."

He leaned in, catching her lips with his quickly. "I mean, you can leave if you want, but you should stay."

Her cheeks were highlighted with pink. He set the beer on the counter beside her and then cautiously placed his hands on the outside of her thighs, watching her face for any sign of rejection before he pulled himself toward her and laid his head gingerly on her lap. Her hand came up just seconds later to run her fingers through his hair and he sighed in contentment, a rumble of pleasure erupting from his chest, pressed tightly against the front of her legs.

"Stay."

Clarke hand paused but she didn't say anything and he lifted his head to look at her face, anxious to see her reaction. His wolf was not above begging to get his way.

"Please, Clarke. Stay with me tonight."

He heard her heart pick up in double time, but her eyes turned wary. "Bellamy…"

He gave her a crooked grin. "I promise, I'll behave myself." At this he lifted his hands from her legs in an 'I'm innocent' gesture.

A tiny smile turned up at the corners of her mouth.

He spread his hand over the tops of her thighs again and her breathing hitched, giving him a wicked sense of satisfaction. " _Please_ , babe?"

She rolled her eyes. "Okay."

He squeezed her legs and gave her a genuine smile before gingerly laying his head back down on her lap, not quite ready to abandon the petting session.

She indulged him for several minutes, but they soon discovered his stomach wasn't quite as satisfied as the rest of his body when it made its demands known with a loud growl.

Clarke chuckled softly. "Are you hungry?"

Bellamy didn't budge. "I'm starving."

She reached back across the counter to the paper-wrapped food he'd seen earlier and handed it to him. He sat up and unwrapped it slowly as the aroma of tomato sauce spiced with oregano and basil layered on top of beef and the delicious yeasty smell of bread overpowered all of his otherwise engaged senses.

It was a giant sub, piled with meatballs, marinara and cheese and it smelled amazing. Bellamy popped up, planting a wet kiss on Clarke's cheek before she could refuse and then mmm'ed in anticipation.

"You. Are. So. Awesome."

Clarke's cheeks were flushed pink again when he glanced up from unwrapping the sandwich she had made him. Bellamy was already in the process of devouring the meal when she suggested they sit on the porch and watch the stars while he ate.

It really was nice outside since the rain had stopped: not too hot and not too cold. All of the previous cloud cover had dissipated; leaving the sky incredibly clear after the day's ferocious storms while the two of them gazed upon the millions of stars visible in the inky blackness that stretched from one corner of their vision to the other.

He was able to relax now that he knew Clarke would not be leaving him for the night. He tried not to be too eager for sleep knowing she would be in his bed with him, but it was honestly all he could think about once he finished the sandwich.

He drank the remaining beers, continuing to tell her about his horrid day in small snippets, but when his story was interrupted for the fourth time by a yawn, she insisted that he needed to lie down and he didn't resist.

On their way inside, he offered her a shirt to sleep in, running out to his car to grab his bag so he could give her a clean one. She stared hesitantly at it for a minute before finally heading for his bathroom to change.

As Bellamy waited, he took off his shirt and unbuttoned his jeans before hesitating in pulling them off; he didn't want to make Clarke too uncomfortable. He usually slept buck naked, but he could see how that might be construed as making a move and he really wanted to keep his word. He managed to dig up a pair of sweatpants, threw them on and leaned back onto the bed, his body going slack as he linked his hands behind his head. There was only one pillow and he left it on her side of the bed. It was only a few seconds before his eyes closed in exhaustion.

When they blinked opened again, Clarke was standing by the mattress as if a dream, lit only by the moon shining through the window, her legs bare and his T-shirt just skimming the tops of her thighs. She had let her hair down and it was swept to one side, the waves cascading past her breasts pressed alluringly against the soft material of the shirt. She was beautiful. Like an angel in the night.

The comprehension of seeing all of that pale, perfect flesh jerked him to awareness, his inner animal now wide awake. Bellamy eyes lazily roamed her body, from her blonde hair to her blue toe nails, catching on a lighter patch of skin on her left calf. He moved quickly, his eyes tracking the mark on her leg as he stalked it from one side of the mattress to the other. He sat at her feet tilting his head to get a better look and she stepped back a pace in alarm at his sudden approach.

He could still easily reach her. His finger just traced the edge of a nasty scar that ran up from her ankle and then out into two arcs up to her knee. Clarke shivered at his touch and Bellamy looked up, noticing her eyes had become dilated and alarmingly unfocused.

"What happened?"

She blinked, her reaction to his question quickly shuttered behind an icy wall. She kneeled down slowly and removed his hand from the scar and her leg. "It happened a long time ago." She seemed to have closed the subject and he didn't want to press, so he reluctantly dropped it. He moved back to his side of the mattress to give her room and watched as she carefully laid her head down on the solitary pillow he'd left for her.

They were face to face now but a few feet apart; their eyes had nowhere else to go but to the other's. Despite how much they'd touched and explored each other in the past few hours, for some reason, being in bed felt different. He had begged her to stay, but he didn't want her to feel trapped, or obligated, or anything other than happy and safe. 

She smiled, holding no hostility about his examination of her scar. "Thanks for the pillow."

He chuckled. "No problem."

He stared at her for a long minute, lying in his bed, in his shirt and he desperately tried not to think about peeling it off. Out here in this quiet isolation, in this dark empty room in an abandoned house miles away from any civilization - it kind of felt like they were the only two people in the world.

Bellamy realized he would be totally okay if that were the case.

Clarke seemed to be thinking about something as she chewed on her bottom lip and it was doing shit for his determination to keep his hands and mouth to himself.

"You never said anything about the design." She had whispered it, her tone unsure and nervous and her eyes wide in anticipation of his reaction.

It took Bellamy a second to realize what she was talking about and then he popped up on his elbow, his desire quickly doused in cold water. "Fuck! Yes - the plans. Shit! I can't believe I didn't tell you first thing – I'm such an ass."

She was still chewing on her lip, waiting anxiously.

Bellamy laid his head back down, looking at her with his eyes blazing wanting to be sure that she understood his words were sincere. "Seriously. Even if it wasn't you - because honestly I'm kind of biased when it comes to you - I would still be floored by how awesome it is. You are amazing.  _It_  is amazing."

She finally released her lip from between her teeth to smile at him. "Really? You like it?"

It was incredibly easy to be honest about this. "Yes. It was the best part of my day. Except for this, right now."

She was still smiling, all her teeth showing before she giggled. It was so disarmingly charming.

Despite the late hour and the long day, Bellamy didn't mind answering all of her questions - about what he liked specifically about the design, and if he wanted anything changed and what his plans were for the construction.

He didn't mind because it seemed the later the hour, the lower her defenses became and the less restraint Bellamy had over his wolf. Eventually, they managed to end up lying right next to each other in the center of the mattress with their feet and legs entwined and their heads sharing the same pillow.

After a lull in conversation, Bellamy sat up to lean on his elbow and hover over her as his eyes searched her face. His free hand came up carefully to cup her jaw before his thumb gently brushed the length of her luscious bottom lip, making his intentions obvious. Her breathing became labored, her chest visibly heaving up and down.

"Kiss me," She said quietly, and he did. 

When she slipped her tongue out to meet his, Bellamy's grip involuntarily tightened, his fingers pressing into the bones of her hip before pulling her forward and flush against him. Her small hand came up to caress his bare chest, the feather light touch of her fingernails scraping across his body making goose bumps erupt across his flesh and an odd sort of moan/rumble erupt from his chest.

It was sweet, sweet torture when he finally made himself pull away.

They stared at each other with hooded eyes, their breathing suddenly loud in the quiet stillness of the bare room. She had to have felt that too, the perfection of them fitted together as one. As he watched, her dazed stare became focused on him again before she spoke in a hoarse whisper.

"I guess," She swallowed, licking her lips and drawing his eyes back down to stare at them in lust. "This means we're not friends anymore?"

His eyes flickered back to hers, surprised by the question. His hand released her hip to cup her face again. His voice was rough from a mixture of desire and devotion. "Clarke, Princess. We were never just friends. Not since the moment I saw you."

Her eyebrows bunched in worry that he couldn't comprehend. "But I like being friends with you." She paused, whispering fervently, as if telling a secret. "You're the only other person in the world that really..." Her lips twitched, " _U_ _nderstands_  me."

They both dissolved into laughter at the phrase, but then Clarke's face grew serious once more. "I mean it though," She said. "You're the only other were I've ever met."

Bellamy suddenly felt a stab of guilt for robbing her of the only true friendship her tortured twin souls had ever had. But he was trading it for something more, something better, right?

"Hey. Look at me." Her anxious gaze had wandered down - to where her hand had settled against his shoulder, watching as her fingers toyed with his hair. She looked up, hope glittering in her eyes. "I promised I could never hurt you, didn't I? I meant it, and I still do."

She nodded her head before Bellamy kissed her again, struggling to pull away in an appropriate amount of time. Especially since she didn't seem to mind if he did or not. She pressed close to him, her head on his chest, and as he listened to her heartbeat steady and her breathing slowly even out, Bellamy strongest desire and biggest fear were confirmed:

He'd found his mate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet y'all already saw this coming but if you didn't, SURPRISE :')
> 
> I don't ever deserve comments and kudos but if you want I love reading them and weeping sooooo 
> 
> xx


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!! I've been working nonstop and have had very little time to even log on to ao3. Once again I'm seriously overwhelmed at the response from you guys reading this. I never imagined people would enjoy it this much.
> 
> This chapter is extra long to make up for my absence. Updates should come a little more regularly now since I have the story mapped out and nearly all written!!
> 
> This is extremely unedited. I think I read over it twice. As always, comments and kudos are so appreciated and undeserved <3

Warm. She felt so _warm_. And sheltered. A large, rock-hard body fit perfectly against her, and a heavy arm was locked around her waist, preventing her from moving at all; as if she could somehow find the energy. She wanted to turn into that warmth, feel the strong muscles of the chest at her back beneath her hands again; snuggle her face into the crook of his neck and press her nose and lips right up against the smooth skin there. But she was so tired; her eyelids extraordinarily heavy. Steady breaths hummed in her ear, lulling her back into unconsciousness.

Until…feather light kisses fell like drops of rain along her brow, her eyelids, her cheekbones and down the curve of her jaw. Incomprehensible whispers of adoration floated to her ears and threatened to drag her up from the peaceful darkness. The wet, hot touch of a tongue sliding roughly up her neck shrouded the dark with dizzying pleasure. But she could only just manage to focus on one sensation when another began, amplifying the vertigo effect. The tickle of fabric sliding up her torso; the hypnotizing rhythm of bristly hairs grazing every inch of her, followed by hot, wet, sucking kisses cooled quickly by the morning chill, then the sudden sting of sharp teeth nipping her skin as the trail led down, down, down. From her stomach, her hips and thighs, to the ends of her toes and then back up the other side. The sudden, firm pressure of a nose pressed into her pubic bone sent lightning sparks of desire into the dim fog of sleep surrounding her. Her mind had just worked out the sounds of a deep inhale of breath and that rumble she so loved growling in satisfaction before all her thoughts were broken apart by the heat of that rough tongue penetrating through the thin barrier of cloth covering her most private area.

Clarke eyes flashed open, her hands fisted in the sheets as she tried to right the immediate disorientation of waking in a strange place. The master bedroom of Bellamy's house was flooded with light and heat as the sun beat through the bare windows. Her head turned, searching for her wolf friend only to find herself in an empty bed. After finding the bathroom doorway dark she perked up an ear, listening intently to see if any sound traveled from the other rooms but it was completely quiet.

 _Had it been a dream?_ A shaky hand came up to feel her flushed face, before leisurely trailing down the path his mouth had taken. Bellamy's shirt was still hitched up on one side, exposing the soft swell of her stomach and the corner of her panties had been dragged down below her hip bone. She held her breath, two fingers mimicking the movement his tongue had made up the V of her panties only to find them soaked through. She sat up straight, examining a particularly tender spot on the inside of her knee. Yes – those were teeth marks. It _had_ been real.

Clarke fell back onto the pillow with a sigh. That animal had almost made her come in her sleep. She could only imagine what he could do if she was awake.

Well, she'd been privy to exactly what he could do with just a kiss last night. Her mind drifted, remembering the delicious weight of his hard body on top of hers, the solid knee he'd wedged between her legs and the confident, gentle way he had explored her mouth with his own. She loved the way just the slightest graze of her fingernails on his skin provoked his wolf into producing the softest of growls, almost like a purr. The vibration reverberated through her own body in the loveliest way and made her eager to provoke more, but Bellamy had managed to restrain her roving hand with a tight grasp around her wrist.

He and his wolf had seemed content to stay within some invisible boundaries of decency and she was belatedly thankful.

She apparently had no self-control around him. Clarke blamed her wolf. The animal practically panted in eagerness anytime Bellamy was near – it was a fight to stay composed in his presence. Any physical touch from him manifested itself in a temporary short circuiting of her motor skill function; she was unable to deny him anything he wanted and it was scary as hell.

She laughed at herself as she thought back to the many lines she'd drawn in the sand only to waltz right past them. At first, she had been determined that he would be just a client. Scratching that - they were going to be 'friends.' Now, apparently they were 'friends that made out and slept in the same bed.' Bellamy hadn't thought twice about dragging her across all of those lines and she doubted she would stop him from hauling her past the next one.

_Where was he?_

She stretched out her arms and legs, her hand nudging something heavy and hard wedged under the corner of her pillow. She turned on her side, lifting the pillow to discover an old, worn book. The front cover was faded around its edges, but at one time had been a deep ochre. In the center sat an intricate wood-cut style representation of trees and vines surrounding an owl. The title at the top read 'The Children of Odin.'

A bright white piece of paper peeked out from under the hard cover that obviously didn't belong there. She tugged it loose. It was a handwritten note from Bellamy – the letters across it were tight and neat and in all caps.

_Clarke -_

_You have no idea how badly I wanted to stay,_

_but I had to_ _head back to Polis for work._

_Call me when you wake up._

_– Bellamy_

Her immediate reaction was to smile, but in the back of her mind she remembered that image of him from last night: weary and anxious as he walked through the door. Yes, something was going on that he hadn't felt the need or want to share with her and it bothered her for some reason. It wasn't really her business. And maybe he didn't want to burden her with his problems, but a darker part of her wondered if there was something he wanted to hide from her. She pushed that all away, reminding herself that whatever the reason, it was her he'd driven hours to see last night and then proceeded to kiss breathless.

Despite its possible significance, Clarke left the book for later and turned to run her hand along the floor beside the mattress, searching for her phone. Once found, she huddled back under the sheets and scrolled to the last number dialed, hitting send and noting absently that it was almost eight in the morning.

It rang several times before Bellamy's voice rumbled at her, full of amusement. "Morning, sleepyhead."

"Hi." Her voice was hoarse with disuse. "How far are you?" Maybe he was only a few minutes away. Maybe he would come back and finish what he'd started.

"Almost to Polis, now."

"Oh." He'd been gone for two hours already? "You should have woken me."

Bellamy's deep chuckle reverberated through the phone. "Believe me, babe. I tried."

Her mind recalled all of those tangled, indistinct, incredible sensations he'd managed to create just hours ago and her body thrummed in response.

"Yes, I seem to recall _something_. I thought maybe it was a dream."

"Oh? Was it a good dream?" She could practically hear his smirk.

"Mmmhmm." Her hum of approval came out sleepy and satisfied, even though she was anything but.

"Are you still in bed?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Clarke?" Bellamy's voice had dropped a full octave when he'd said her name. It was almost a growl.

"Yes?" God, her voice sounded all husky.

"Are you touching yourself?"

She blinked in shock, unable to respond for a moment because in truth, she did have one hand slipped under the small fabric triangle of her panties, twirling the soft curls at the very apex of her thighs. She hadn't consciously realized she was doing it and had certainly never expected to be called out on it.

Bellamy's voice pleaded with her. "Princess, _please_ tell me you're still in my bed touching yourself."

God he was so ridiculously sexy. Even on the phone.

Confident. Be confident, Clarke. "Well, what's a girl supposed to do? It's very rude to get me so worked up and then just leave."

He growled, the sound like a lightning strike to her senses. "I swear if I didn't have to be in Polis for any other reason than this pack meeting, I would turn around and drive back two hours, right now."

"And do what?" she challenged, feeling incredibly powerful.

Bellamy hissed into the phone. "I'd bury more than just my nose between your legs."

Oh God. her back arched when his words timed perfectly with her middle finger dipping between her wet lips, finding and pressing on that sweet spot straight away. Jesus, what this man did to her.

"Bellamy….." Clarke's mouth opened to try to explain just that to him when she heard a loud bang and muffled cursing. There were indistinct clattering and shuffling sounds before he came back on the line, voice clear.

"Shit. Clarke? You still there?"

She laughed out loud, the sound echoing in his quiet room. "What happened?"

He snickered. "Dropped my phone."

She laughed loudly again. "Okay, enough. Distracted driving is not safe."

"I don't give a shit."

"Well, lucky for you I do. I don't want you to get in an accident."

Bellamy was still adamant "I won't. Just finish what you were going to say."

Clarke blushed. Her erotic courage had drained away at the thought of Bellamy wrecking his truck because of her. It was alarming how much that thought affected her.

"You need to focus on the road," She insisted. "I'm hanging up."

He growled. "Don't."

After a silent moment, he barked out another warning. "Clarke."

"Fine, fine. I'm here, but I'm _not_ talking dirty to you while you're speeding down 94."

He huffed in disappointment. A pause, then, "But you  _will_ talk dirty to me eventually?"

She rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see her. "We are so  _not_ friends anymore."

He laughed, and then, "Did you see the book?"

She picked up the heavy thing and smoothed her hand over the cover. "Looking at it now. Haven't opened it yet; I wanted to call you first." She belatedly realized how affectionate she sounded. It was happening already.

"It's just the one I told you about before - with the story of the two wolves? I thought you might want to see it."

As Bellamy talked, Clarke turned on her side, pulling the book towards her again to examine it.

"Cool. I can't wait to look through it. Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem. Just, um. It's really special to my mom, so, I know you'll take care of it?" His voice was laced with just the slightest hint of trepidation. Did his mother not know he'd taken it?

"Of course," Her tone was serious, so he would know that she would be cautious.

"I know you will. Um….I kind of just skimmed through it. It's mostly about Norse gods and their legends but then there is a small section about the wolves."

She nodded even though he couldn't see her and flipped open the cover. The copy right was in 1923.

"I'm going to try to find out some more information this week while I'm back in town." His tone sounded almost apologetic now which puzzled her.

"I know you're busy, so don't feel any pressure…"

"It's not that…I….I just wish I could find something more for you."

"It's fine, Bellamy. Just this little bit is more than I've ever had. And you helped me find it."

Bellamy sighed sadly and she closed the book, her eyebrows scrunching together in uncertainty. She wasn't sure what else to say, so she just kept quiet.

He finally said, "I'm sorry I had to go this morning. I'll call you tonight if I can?"

"Okay." She smiled, hoping to lighten his mood and added, "Have a good day, Mr. Blake."

It worked. There was a smile in his voice as he said, "You too, Princess."

Clarke set down her phone, wondering at his strange behavior regarding the book. But eventually her inquisitiveness got the better of her and she opened the cover again. She was immediately confused; the book contained the stories of Norse mythology from former Scandinavia. She knew Bellamy's pack and his family had Indigenous roots here in North America, so why had he gifted her a book of stories from somewhere far away?

She could practically hear Bellamy smirking at her, saying, "Just trust me," so she flipped through the table of contents and the first few chapters. After a list of chapters there was a short introduction about Norse mythology and a sort of hierarchical flow chart of all of the Aesir gods associated with Odin, the Allfather of the gods and the ruler of Asgard. Clarke began in chapter one, breezing through the central cosmos of Norse mythology which consisted of the Nine Worlds that flank a central cosmological tree: Yggdrasil.

She finally flipped to a page that Bellamy must have marked for her. The chapter began with a startling painting, depicting a monstrous black wolf attacking a warrior atop a horse with dark, smoky strokes of paint. Her heart beat a little faster as she read.

She learned that Fenrir was a massive wolf who presumably fathered two children, Skoll and Hati. They were born in Ironwood, a great forest east of Midgard where a giantess witch lived. Mother of Skoll and Hati, her other children consisted of trolls and werewolves.

_Lovely._

The story goes that Skoll pursues the sun-god Solveig across the sky to make day. Skoll's brother, Hati, pursues Mani, the moon-goddess to make night; thus all parts of the world get some light and some darkness, so animals, people and gods all know when to sleep. It also prophesied that the two wolves would eventually consume the sun and moon on the cataclysmic Ragnarok, the 'end of days' Norse people believed would come and destroy the Aesir gods. Clarke found one particular translation from Gylfaginning fascinating and read over it at least five times.

 _Hati is the wolf that to the Wood-of-Woe_  
_Follows the glittering goddess,_  
_And the son of Hrothvitnir, Skoll,  
Hunts the burning bridegroom of heaven._

It sounded so much like the depiction on her blanket that they must be linked. Was it just a story, like most mythology? A grand narrative to give life meaning and help people to make sense of the world? Or did it have some real significance? Clarke was never much for fairytales or supernatural ideals, but part of her could never quite discount any of it, since she was somewhat of a mystical being herself.  

She sighed and closed the book. She felt like she had more questions than answers now and secretly hoped Bellamy would find something else to help clear up the mess. She still had that uneasy feeling, like something was going on with him that she couldn't put her finger on but it was useless to dwell on. Clarke closed her eyes, preferring to daydream about Bellamy's strong hands and soft lips instead of scary black wolves chasing the sun and werewolf connections she didn't understand. She promptly fell back asleep, despite the brightness of the sun flooding the room.

When she finally dragged herself out of bed an hour or so later, she debated showering, but she knew the pups were probably frantic about her being gone so long. She pulled on her jeans and her jacket, not bothering to take off Bellamy's shirt. She blamed it on laziness, but truthfully, her wolf wasn't ready to give up his scent just yet.

The dogs yipped and whined and all but knocked her over trying to get a whiff of the foreign smells the moment she walked in the door. Zula immediately recognized Bellamy's scent and growled, low and nonthreatening, more of a complaint than anything.

"Oh, hush," She chided, giving the girl an affectionate scratch behind the ear. 

The boys seemed just content to have Clarke home, so she fed them, topping their bowls with a little treat in an attempt to make up for her long absence. While they ate, she went for a shower, reluctant to wash off Bellamy's scent but also very aware of the outdoorsy smell that lingered from their muddy run last night. She'd been so bold, so forward with him, and it surprised her how comfortable she was letting her wolf take over around him. On their run, she'd been completely uninhibited, and as tired as they both were, they played like pups. He even let her pin him a few times, despite both of them knowing she could never  _really_ knock his wolf to the ground without the element of surprise. 

Then... They had kissed. Or rather, _she_ had kissed _him_. She knew it had been inevitable, that it was only a matter of time before whatever it was between them boiled over. When he told her he was going to kiss her, he sounded so deliberate, and then he took so long... well, her wolf was less patient than she was. And apparently completely uninhibited. She slept in his _bed_. She'd almost had phone sex with Bellamy this morning, for god's sake. And she didn't feel guilty about any of it. Nor did she regret it. Bellamy was so thankfully patient; he let her call all the shots, even if he did try to persuade her with a little begging.

Her phone rang right as she stepped out of the shower, pulling her from her thoughts. Wells' name flashed on the screen, so she quickly wrapped herself in a towel and brought the phone to her ear.

"Hey," She said. "I'm happy you called."

"Hi," He responded. "Sorry again about last week. I wasn't trying to sabotage your date by strategically leaving Lexa at the shop."

"Sure you weren't," She teased, placing him on speaker so she could toss the phone on the bed and begin toweling off her hair.

"So it  _was_ a date! Lexa suspected as much."

"Wells!" She huffed, walking over to the bed. "No, it wasn't. He's a client, whose presentation is this week, whose design plan I hope you have ready for me."

"When I come in town for the meeting, you and I are going to discuss this date _,_ " Wells said firmly. "But yes, I'm emailing you the final plan now so you can approve and make your adjustments."

"There is nothing to discuss," She felt herself blushing at the lie. "I'll text you later when I look at the design."

"Deny and distract," Wells clucked his tongue. "Clarke Griffin's best strategy."

"Goodbye!" She said shrilly, hanging up to effectively cut off Wells' laughter.

* * *

Bellamy called as promised that night. He seemed in better spirits and Clarke was thankful, even if it meant fending off his eager inquiries as to her morning's activities. She played coy, telling him about tidying the house and then lunch with her parents; even the errands she'd ran in the afternoon. To give him credit, he'd listened attentively and didn't press for any other sordid details. They made arrangements to meet with her father to do a true design presentation and formal budget review on Wednesday afternoon at two o'clock.

The day couldn't come soon enough, but time still felt as if it was flying by too quickly. Each day closer and she could almost feel the tension in her gut tighten and not in an entirely bad way. Wednesday morning she found herself walking around in a frenzied state of nerves and arousal.

As much as Clarke wanted to see Bellamy today, she was also incredibly nervous - not so much about the presentation but at the possibilities of what might happen afterward. She wasn't quite sure what he expected of their relationship now. She finally had decided they were at the stage of friends-with-benefits. But the kissing, well the kind of kissing they had done, was far from playful or innocent. In fact, the intensity with which she felt his every touch was startling. Each time his lips met hers it felt as if her entire body and soul were being burned from the inside out.

She wasn't in denial; she knew that whatever it was between them wasn't just purely physical. Clark Griffin liked purely physical; she had slept with her fair share of men and women in college. Physical was safe. Physical meant enjoyment for everyone without the gut-spilling, heart-wrenching agony of feelings getting involved. But this? The tender way Bellamy touched her proved that he cared, and that feelings were involved. For her, this was like going into an emotional battlefield completely naked. And she hated feeling that bare and vulnerable in front of anyone. Lexa was the only real relationship she'd ever had, the only other time she'd been completely open and honest with another person, and look how that had turned out. 

So, the ease with which she had turned herself over to Bellamy was frightening. Because, deep inside she knew it was inevitable. And that thought was incredibly thrilling.

"Hello, _Ms. Griffin_."

The rumbling of Bellamy’s voice made her breath catch in her throat. Clarke's mind had been so occupied with her swirling thoughts that she hadn't noticed his presence immediately. She twisted around from her place at the break-room counter where she'd been watching her coffee brew. His bulk and powerful scent overtook the room and caused her heart to pick up in its slow, steady rhythm. She stared at that crooked smile, remembering the first time they'd been right here in this same position and she'd been scared out of her mind. This time, though, her heart was racing for an entirely different reason.

"Can I help you?" A slow smile spread across her face as his eyes traveled from her head to her toes with a wicked gleam.

"Yes, I think you can." He was to her in the blink of an eye – two wide strides to cross the small room and sweep her up into his arms. He slipped a strong arm around her small waist and lifted her up, pressing his lips to hers before she could even think to reply. The primal display of his strength caused desire to pool deep in her belly. He could snap her in two if he wished, this beast holding her so tightly. But Clarke knew, with some unfathomable intuition that she had more control over him than previously thought. It was a heady feeling.

It only took seconds before she recovered from the shock of his kiss. One of her hands snaked up into the hair at the nape of his neck, while the other rested on the strong muscles of his shoulder. Her lips opened willingly as he slid a hot, wet tongue into her mouth.

Minutes or maybe hours later, his mouth was still pressed against hers, the strokes of his tongue less urgent now but just as forceful, before he languidly moved to nuzzle her neck with his nose and breathe in her scent. Bellamy seemed to be unaware that he was softly growling, but Clarke could feel it all the way down to her dangling toes. His sharp teeth grazed down her jaw, triggering a shiver to erupt down her spine. The prickly pain of those teeth aligned with the crook of her neck made her gasp and her fingers fist in the hair at the nape of his neck.

She felt almost too breathless to speak, but managed a playful warning, "Careful with those teeth. Don't want to leave a mark, do you?"

Bellamy head pulled back quickly, his eyes darting between her own, searching for something. After a moment the light in his eyes dimmed almost imperceptibly - obviously not finding what he was looking for, but he covered it quickly with a mischievous grin - hiding the unrecognizable emotion she knew she'd seen.

"You know, I wanted to do that the first time I found you here."

Diverted from contemplating that mystery, Clarke scoffed. Then after examining his face decided that he was being completely serious. She laughed out loud. "Well it's a good thing you didn't because I probably would have tried to claw your skin off."

She could feel Bellamy’s silent chuckle rumble from his chest, his shoulders shaking. She loved the way his eyes crinkled so they were almost completely shut when he laughed.

He kissed her swiftly on the lips again before setting her on her feet again and her hands slid from his neck to his chest. He glanced behind her to the tray of coffee mugs and the few cookies meant to be snacks for the meeting. She reached for another mug from the cabinet, her hand shaky with adrenaline.

Bellamy placed a firm hand over hers without commenting. "Can I help?"

She glanced up. "No, but thank you. I was just finished - about to take them to the conference room."

Bellamy lifted an eyebrow. "Are those for me?"

Clarke smirked. "Maybe."

Bellamy snatched two cookies from the plate and stuffed them in his mouth. Clarke pursed her lips to keep from smiling and sighing in mock exasperation, reached up into the cabinet to grab the package and add more to the plate. As soon as she had set a few more on the serving platter, Bellamy grabbed them off and ate them.

She bumped him with her hip. "Would you quit?"

Bellamy grabbed her waist and laughed. "If you keep putting them on there, I'm just going to keep eating them."

She shook her head and picked up the plate. "Come on." He released his hold on her to reach for the tray.

"Let me carry it," he demanded.

She scoffed. "No, way. There won't be any left by the time we get there."

Bellamy rolled his eyes, but followed her out of the room and down the hall, keeping a steadying hand on the small of her back. It was somewhat distracting and she had the thought that she was more likely to trip this way then if he'd not been touching her at all.

"So my father is here, as my supervisor," She began as they approached earshot of the conference room. "And Wells Jaha, a close friend and an interior designer who helped with the project. He owns Ditto in Kettle Falls."

Bellamy smoothly took a step away from her and held the door open for her to pass through. 

"Thank you," She said coolly, ignoring his wink that she knew neither Wells nor her father could see.

Clarke set the tray on the buffet and poured a cup of coffee for herself and her father. "Have a seat Mr. Blake. This is Wells Jaha, my interior designer."

Wells' eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead, and - with a pointed look at Clarke - he stood up to shake Bellamy's hand. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Blake. You have a beautiful home."

Clarke fought the urge to roll her eyes at Wells' easy charm, and Bellamy smiled, taking Wells' hand. "Pleasure's mine. Please, call me Bellamy."

Jake Griffin stood up too, and Bellamy greeted him with a firm handshake as well. "Mr. Griffin, good to see you."

“Bellamy. Good to have you here again. Are you ready to see the design Clarke developed?"

Bellamy nodded. "Yes, sir. Very."

"Well, then. Let's get started." Jake turned and nodded to Clarke as she handed Bellamy a glass of cool water, both of them sitting at the same time.

Clarke was quiet for a moment where she questioned if her father meant to direct the meeting, but he only sat attentively waiting on her to begin, so she dove in.

In school, her classmates had always been nervous about presenting their work in front of people. But she relished this part of her job. She worked extremely hard on every project she designed; she was a perfectionist and so when she finished something, she had the confidence and passion to present it with self-assurance.

Of course, she also knew that Bellamy had already seen the design and professed it 'amazing,' so that helped. Nevertheless, her biggest critic and most sought after praise was sitting at the head of the table, so Clarke gave it her all.

She set up the 3D view of each room and walked her two audience members through every phase of the planned remodel as well as the proposed budget.

She started with the exterior of the house, which had been largely untouched save for the front doors. The classic wooden double doors had been replaced by larger, sturdier glass and wrought-iron doors to modernize the front entry.

Of course, all the other doors and windows throughout the house were replaced to match the open air design and feel of the home as well as improve the energy efficiency of the home. Wolves did not like to feel closed in unless they were bedded down for the night; at least this much she knew and could contribute to the uniqueness that would be a pack house designed by a true werewolf, abandoned or not.

All of the floors were stained concrete for their modern aesthetic and durability, but scattered around in each room were lush rugs to keep guests and inhabitants comfortable. The aesthetic was cool, modern, and highly functional, but combined with a rustic yet luxurious interior design by Wells, its overall appeal was extremely pleasing to the senses.

Moving through the natural progression after entering the house, she started with the largest rooms on the first floor. If the house had a heart it was here: the great room. Placed near the back of the house and with a newly widened view of the surrounding woods, Clarke replaced the atrium glass and added black steel supports. She replaced the worn oak wooden staircase to the basement with modern dark wood slabs and steel railings to match the window frames. Without the added warmth of dark wood furniture and cozy color scheme, the room might seem cold and unfriendly, but with Wells' genius at work it was a relaxed, inviting masterpiece of a room.

For comfort and function, a colossal sectional couch split the room. It could comfortably seat 10-12 people and would have to be custom made by a personal friend of Wells, but it would be worth it. No regular furniture would effectively fill out this werewolf meeting hall. In addition there were leather armchairs gracing either side of the fire place as a sort of focal point for the room and would serve as a sort of modern day throne for Bellamy and his Beta during meetings. Additional seating could be found if needed in the padded benches along the back walls.

Plush carpets, pillows, and throw blankets added warmth as well as the numerous natural elements Wells had brought in, from the raw wood mantel to textured linen wallpaper in the background, as well as the wall of modular cylinder planters overgrown with sweet smelling native plants, nose tested by Clarke herself.

Just off the great room, Clarke had transformed the master bedroom into a smaller, cozier office for Mr. Blake. Clarke couldn't help but notice the small smirk on Bellamy’s face each time she referred to him this way during her presentation and she was sure he caught on to most of the infinite number of details she had added solely for the pack's comfort without her having to directly explain each one.

His office contained modern streamlined built-in shelves behind a simple, oversized desk with a small round table and chairs for private conferences. Of course, there was a large picture window with a view to the patio and woods just behind them. A single door on the far wall led to the master bath, redesigned with an added butler's pantry where Bellamy could set up a wet bar.

Clarke took them back out into the great room. Although the great room was the centerpiece, Clarke's preference was for the kitchen. It was almost utilitarian at first glance, but behind each cabinet door was a stunning array of gadgets and gear for even the most seasoned professional chef.

It featured black cabinets with a white tile backsplash and butcher block counters. The backsplash could conveniently slide open to reveal a multitude of countertop appliances so as not to crowd the counter. Casual collections of wooden spoons, bowls of salts and seasonings, oils and vinegars and a small herb collection dotted the countertops softening the hard lines. A double oven and dual range with gas fuel allowed for precise stovetop cooking, while the electric-heated convection ovens ensured even baking temps and easy cleaning. On either side of the oven vent were hanging racks for any amount of pot and pan storage.

A large island in the center served as valued counter space for the cooks on one side and bar seating for random snackers visiting the kitchen outside of meal times. Glass jar pendant lights over the bar gave it a softer feel.

Along the back wall was a modern buffet to house the day to day utensils needed for feeding a crowd. And of course the showpiece here was Bellamy’s table. Its simple magnificence was on display as the center of the open air dining area, surrounded again by the floor to ceiling windows. It was difficult to suppress the involuntary smile when she caught his eyes sparkling at her frank praise for its beauty.

Back through the kitchen leading to the garage, she had taken the former dining room and transformed it into an oversized mudroom. She thought the mudroom was especially practical for a house full of shifters that would likely be running in the woods nearby on a daily basis. The side door with outdoor access contained an oversized dog flap, so it could be easily entered on two feet or four paws. There were multiple built-in, open-shelving 'lockers' with numerous hooks for hanging clothes, jackets, shoes, etc. A long bench ran the length of the wall underneath the cubbies with basket storage below to store more essentials for changing if needed. The attached bathroom had a walk-in shower with removable head for easy clean-up on particularly muddy days.

The mudroom's function was two-fold as a place to regroup after a run and to also clean the significant amount of dirty laundry that a group of 15 or so people might create. There were two sets of top-of-the-line washers and dryers along with an oversized farmhouse sink for soaking big jobs. Alongside this was a counter space for folding, hanging, and ironing clothing with storage beneath for the extensive cleaning supplies that were likely required to clean a pack house.

Behind the garages adjacent to the mudroom was a hallway containing the lower level bedrooms. Off the small gallery behind the stairs were several single bedrooms, each with access to their own bath, meant for unmated members of the pack. At the end of the hall was a small service area that held a modest seating area, with a built in desk. Radiating from this center were four more bedrooms with two bathrooms  between so that either two small or perhaps even one large family could inhabit them comfortably.

Moving back towards the entry way, Clarke began with the second floor. With a transition to the upper level, Clarke also tried to shift the design to alter the scale from the grandeur of a multi-family home to something more relaxed.

At the top of the quarter-turn staircase was a short landing leading with a balcony that was open to the entry way below. Because of this design, those living on the second floor would have complete privacy, but still have the ability to speak to anyone on the first floor without having to actually descend the stairs.

Right off the balcony was access to a smaller den tucked into the back corner of the house. This living area was meant for Bellamy, his Beta, and their future families. Although the same sense of openness pervaded this space with several large windows, it had a cozier feel than the great room. It was smaller, with just a couch, love seat and several chairs to sit in. A small kitchenette had been built into one wall with bar seating. Adjacent to that was a breakfast nook set into a bay window.

Clarke was particularly fond of breakfast nooks.

Although she had managed to maintain a detached professionalism throughout the presentation, at the mention of this damn nook, she felt the burn of a blush start high on her cheeks and spread down her neck which she could do nothing to stop.

Bellamy had been an incredibly easy-going client. He had more abstract ideas rather than concrete specifics about what he wanted his house to look like so he mostly left the intimate details to her. She of course requested input on his tastes and preferences on most of the rooms, but this nook in particular had never been discussed with him.

She, however, had stood in the rooms upstairs and studied the best view and been very selective with its placement and design. If one were to sit in just the right place on the window bench, she could see clearly for miles down into the valley on the south side of the house. Maybe with a cup of coffee in hand in the early morning hours, while every other soul in the house was still sleeping. This is the detail with which Clarke had designed this nook and she felt as if she had somehow woven herself into the house with it. And she felt equal parts treacherous and gleeful that it would actually exist in the very near future.

Clarke quickly moved on to the bedrooms, pointedly avoiding Bellamy’s unwavering gaze during her embarrassing reaction. But unfortunately, just as she had gotten through the Beta suite and her blush had receded, it quickly returned in full force at the reveal of the master bedroom.

The master bedroom was sparse, Scandinavian in style. The ceiling had been removed so that the arch of the roof opened up the room and bared the wooden beams across it. The wooden floor was bare as well, no dark stain or plush carpet to cover its natural raw state.

A simple platform bed sat low to the floor but still dominated the room because of its size. It could easily fit Bellamy, his mate, and several children all at once. The décor was simple. A sheepskin rug and dark grey walls. White sheets and a white synthetic down duvet (real down smelled too strongly of old geese – no werewolf wants to sleep with that). A throw blanket with an earth toned Aztec print. A traditional, handcrafted dream catcher hung above the bed.

It was so remarkably  _her_  that Wells, with his keen eye for personal styles had picked up on it immediately upon viewing the finished room. It was amazing how Clarke could compartmentalize these intimate details so easily while designing in order to protect her fragile heart just for them to strip her bare in embarrassing ways in front of the one person on earth capable of damaging it irreparably. She desperately hoped it wasn't as clear to Bellamy and her father just how much of herself she had injected into this room.

By the end of it, she was desperately relieved to be finished. The confidence with which she had begun the presentation wavered under the mortification she felt at the obvious progression she'd made within the design from clear cut professionalism to personal involvement.

To say that this entire design was the most personal she had ever done was an understatement. She couldn't be sure if it was because she herself was a werewolf and was so adept at working on a project that catered to both sides of her – the human side that craved comfort and function, as well as the more basic side that longed for nature in its most raw forms. Or if it was because she was so involved on a personal level with the client. Either way it was incredibly both alarming and satisfying to see something she so purposefully created come to life.

Her nervousness only increased as they began discussing the budget. She kept waiting for Bellamy to call her out on her less than judicial use of his money seeing as she recruited Wells for the interior design aspect and custom designed furniture, but he never did. His only comments to her, Wells or her Father were in praise for her work or eagerness to break ground on the renovation.

The broad smile on Bellamy’s face and his enthusiasm must have been proof enough for her father as he calmly congratulated her on a job well done. Clarke was given a short reprieve from her burning cheeks as the two men discussed construction document details and set about signing all the paperwork involved which her father's receptionist had graciously supplied for them. Bellamy and her father shook hands before he excused himself to other business, leaving Wells, Clarke and Bellamy alone in the conference room.

"Wells, I love what you did with the interior," Bellamy said sincerely. "I'm glad Clarke commissioned you for this."

Wells grinned at the praise. "Anything for Clarke. She's one of my oldest friends and the most talented architect in the state, but I'm sure you knew that or we wouldn't be here."

Bellamy laughed easily. "I don't disagree with you on that one. I'm lucky to have found her."

Clarke flushed again at their comments. "Stop flattering me," She said in a halfhearted attempt at teasing. 

Wells chuckled and stood, shaking Bellamy's hand and thanking him for the opportunity to work on the project.

Clarke started collecting the contracts and papers spread around the conference room table, waiting for Bellamy to say something in his teasing way, like '...when did we discuss a breakfast nook in the second kitchen?' or 'went a little over budget with all the throw blankets, huh...'

But as soon as Wells was clear of the doorway, Bellamy stood and drifted to her side.

He grabbed her hand, turning her to face him. "Did I mention that you are amazing?"

She snorted. "You mean the house is amazing."

"Well, yeah, it's incredible. But no, I mean you. We should go celebrate."

She raised her eyebrows, fighting a smile and a fierce blush. "My amazingness? Where? There are like, three restaurants in Arkadia, Bellamy. We don't have much. " She turned back to the table to finish sorting.

"True, but we have land." He stepped behind her, pressing his front to her back and reaching around her body to help stack the papers that were now lifeless in her hands. What was she doing, again?

His quiet voice rumbled in her ear. "Run with me. I feel like I'm going to go crazy if I don't change tonight. I've been stuck in the city for over a week." He seemed like he was trying to convince her to go. As if she would deny him. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he added, "It's raining."

A hot flush of pleasure spread through her body at his words. She'd told him once how much she loved to run in the rain. She had felt the pressure in the air change and heard the distinct pitter patter of rain pick up outside during the meeting. She wanted to know how Bellamy smelled in the rain.

She turned around in his arms and looked up into his face, her top teeth biting into her bottom lip. "Okay. Meet me at my house in an hour."

A dazzling smile lit up his face before his hands gripped her hips and pulled them against his own. He leant down and quickly swept a tongue across her lips. Clarke's breath left her and by the time she had lifted her heavy eyelids again he was already at the door.

"See you soon, babe."

She watched him go, and sighed. As she walked down the hallway to discard the coffee cups, she might have noticed her father sitting in his office, looking pensive.

Jake Griffin had sat in the dark room only half listening to his daughter's presentation. He'd already thoroughly reviewed her design and the budget plan for the remodel and readily approved it. Professionally and aesthetically, it was faultless. He was extremely proud of Clarke today.

Watching her now - this beautiful, poised woman with a controlled passion for her natural talent - he could see himself so much in her and the revelation was a heartening surprise. When had she grown up into such a remarkable young woman?

Every once in a while, though, he caught a glimpse of that fiery little girl he remembered - perpetually barefoot with wild, white-blonde hair and a fire in her eyes. The same independent little girl who could disappear into the trees in a blink of the eye yet had crawled into bed with him and Abby every night for countless years.

Even with the self-confidence and maturity she had acquired, Jake still saw that girl sometimes. Like right now.

He had a feeling that Bellamy Blake could see her too and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. The sounds of her laughter floating from the break room and the curious way she gazed at Bellamy had completely unsettled him.

But after studying the man a little closer, Jake realized he got the same sense of otherness from Bellamy that he always had from Clarke. There was an almost feral quality to them both – a predatory, animal-like grace with which they moved and the uncanny sense of being untamed. It gave him an odd mixture of hope and concern that she had found someone so like her. He had only ever wanted to protect her from the dangers of the world, yet here he was, finding solace that his only daughter had run right into a predator not so unlike herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not crying, you're crying :')


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIIIIIII, it's me and a thousand sorrys would never be enough to make up for how long I abandoned this story. I finally got around to finishing this chapter and have a definitive ending to this story.
> 
> Hopefully I never disappear for 7 months again. Thank you for all your kind messages and comments; I truly don't deserve them <3
> 
> Warning: this chapter contains very mild smut ;)

**_Clarke_ **

She heard his tires crunching as they turned onto the gravel of her driveway, and it was all the prompting she needed to strip off her clothes and dart out the back door into the light rain. She rounded the front of the house on four legs as his truck slowed to a stop.

Bellamy stepped out of the truck, still in his suit but a little more wrinkled. He looked a little awestruck as she approached him, and bent down to smooth his hand down the side of her face. He smiled softly, eyes roaming over her form. "I don't think I've ever told you how beautiful you look like this."

If Clarke could blush, she would have. She licked his hand affectionately, and then whined at him to hurry up.

He continued to run his hand through her now dampening fur, that same bowled-over look in his eyes as he stared at her. She had never interacted with a human while she was in her wolf form. The only other person she'd shown this side of her.... Well, Lexa certainly hadn't _pet_ her. The adoration clear on Bellamy's face made Clarke warm all over; he was not afraid of what she was. He understood her. They were the same.

He tickled her under her chin, and she whined again, impatient. 

He blinked a few times, as if waking from a dream, and laughed. "Okay, okay, just a second. Can't ruin another pair of pants because of you."

He must have caught dual meaning behind his words because the second they left his mouth, he grinned cheekily and shed his shirt. She subtly (not subtly) admired his physique as he undressed, but when he began pulling off his pants, she panicked and darted into the woods. 

It was actually impressive how quickly he caught up with her. 

They ran alongside each other, Clarke inhaling the cool, wet air and the peace that envelopes a forest when it rains. With the gentle sprinkle of rain through the branches, there was a unique silence that surrounded her. The woods were always teeming with sounds, but they ceased during rainfall. Even Bellamy's and her own footsteps were almost inaudible. 

He led them to the river, the quiet part where Clarke often brought the pups to relax. It was April now, and the river was fat and sluggish with spring rainfall. The sprinkle of rain ceased as they approached the river.

She watched Bellamy lap up the water rolling against the bank and couldn't take her mind off what he'd said to Wells earlier that day, _"I'm lucky to have found her."_ To Wells, he'd been speaking architecturally, but when he glanced at her, his eyes said he meant it in more ways than one. Now though, she couldn't shake the feeling that _she_ was lucky he had found her. A much younger Clarke had often wondered if there were others like her, if she wasn't entirely and utterly alone, but eventually, the idea caused her more pain than joy. If there were others, if she had a real family of wolves like her, why had they not found her? Why had _she_ not found them? Was she not missed? The questions and the doubt forced her to dismiss the idea altogether, and she learned to accept her loneliness.

She must have blinked, because not a second later Bellamy pounced her, wrestling her to the ground easily. He pinned her and buried his nose into her fur, rubbing his scent off on her in a very clear show of possession. Her wolf hummed in satisfaction, but human Clarke resented the possessiveness and the confusing implications it came with. She kicked him off her easily and grumbled a warning, low in her throat.

He cocked his head to the side, confused. Perhaps he thought she was rejecting him. She jumped at him playfully and took off running, trying to smooth over the awkward moment. He seemed content enough to run beside her, so they spent the remainder of the daylight exploring and scenting her territory.

When they reached her house again in the waning twilight, Bellamy shifted easily onto two legs.

Clarke let out a yelp and averted her eyes from his nakedness.

He faced her fully, clearly confused, and must have realized, because: "Oh," He said sheepishly. "I forget how modest humans are."

She continued staring pointedly at the ground. 

"Clarke," He said slowly. She looked up and met his gaze with razor focus. He bit back a laugh. "Nudity's just something we're accustomed to. It's... I'm sorry."

She huffed, sitting back on her haunches, and hoped he'd go to his truck so  _she_ could shift and not be naked in front of him. It didn't matter what wolves were accustomed to; she was not accustomed to such casual nudity in the presence of other people. 

Bellamy made a big show of turning around and covering his eyes. "I'm not looking, Princess."

Clarke took her chance and shifted onto two legs. "Put some pants on," She said as she darted for the house (she'd be lying if she didn't take a moment to ogle his backside). She went to her room, the dogs immediately following her to investigate all the scents she brought in from the run. She heard the front door open, recognized Bellamy's footsteps, and the dogs sprinted from her bedroom.

She decided on a shower to rinse off the mud and rainwater. When she emerged fully clothed in some yoga pants and a soft t-shirt, Bellamy was seated on the floor leaning against the couch, Samson across his lap and Leo on the couch behind his head. Zula was on the armchair across the room looking very displeased at his presence.

"Hi," He said, scratching the spot behind Samson's ear that always got his back leg kicking.

"Hi," She echoed, trying not to make it too obvious that the scene before her all but melted her heart. "Shower's yours, if you want it."

"Are you saying I stink?" He teased, but got to his feet anyway.

Quite the opposite actually. The scent  _wet dog_  didn't seem to apply to slightly damp, half-naked werewolves. He smelled amazing, and he looked it too, bare from the waist up in a pair of sweatpants. More than anything, he needed the shower to wash off some of the pheromones that were driving her wolf crazy.

"No," She said honestly, wrapping her arms around herself. "You smell...  _good._ " 

He grinned as he approached her and tentatively placed his hands on her waist, cautious, as if she was going to reject him at any second. "Oh?" He hummed, "Maybe I should skip showers more often."

"Gross," Her nose wrinkled instinctively, even though he was the furthest thing from gross. When he went to pull away, she grabbed his shirt in both fists to tug him back.

"Not that gross, then," He said cockily, his voice low and rumbling. He caught her lip between his teeth, and any clever reply she had began to conjure dissipated completely as she leaned into his kiss.  

His hands slid further around her waist, up her back and into her hair, still damp from her shower. "You smell heavenly," He murmured against her mouth. He scraped his teeth down her chin and across her neck, a flurry of hot flashes of his tongue and gentle bites. "I'm not worthy," He breathed into her ear, sending goosebumps across her skin.

"Bellamy," She sounded breathless, and felt ridiculous, wrecked from one kiss.

"You're right," He said, his voice rough. His fingers flexed against her bare skin, his whole body tense. He cleared his throat, "I do need to shower." Pressing a solid kiss to her lips, he disentangled himself from their embrace. 

She reluctantly watched him tread down the hallway until he disappeared into the bathroom. Part of her wondered what she did wrong, why he had so abruptly rushed to a shower. Bellamy always seemed to be restraining himself, resisting whatever insane chemistry there was between them. Clarke was confident she wasn't making up their connection; he'd confirmed it himself more than once. What was it holding him back?

Frustrated, she moved to make herself comfortable on the couch. Zula took the chance to cuddle, leaping onto the couch and curling into Clarke's side. Clarke flicked on the TV and sunk deeper into the couch.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but she woke up to Bellamy's arms sliding under her knees and shoulders. He scooped her up off the couch with ease, turning for the hallway. He was shirtless still, his hair damp and curling across his forehead. He smelled even better than before.

"What're you doing?" She said, startled, even though her arms found their way around his neck anyway.

He carried her down the short hallway and pushed open her bedroom door with his foot. "Putting you to bed," He teased, smiling. "The plan was to  _not_ wake you."

"And what are you doing _now_?" She asked when he set her on the bed. 

"Going home," He replied, as if it was the most obvious thing.

"You could stay," She said, a little nervous. Her wolf wanted him in her bed  _now,_  but the human side of her still feared his rejection.

He bit his lip, seeming to consider. Then, "I do love pushing my luck."

She grinned and scooted over to make room for him as he slid onto the bed next to her, his arm sliding under her head and the over over her waist. Their legs tangled easily, his fingers began tracing patterns up her back.  

"What did you think of the book?" He asked softly, glancing behind him where Clarke knew the book he lent her sat on her nightstand. 

She hesitated. "I have a lot of questions."

"Such as?"

"Well, Norse mythology... It's just stories, and stories from a culture so far from here. I guess I just didn't see..." She paused, searching for the right words.

"What it had to do with you?" He finished.

"Um, it sounds bad, but yeah. I thought your pack had Native American roots."

"We do," He confirmed.

She huffed. "So logistically, wouldn't I too?"

"Not all werewolves originated in America, at least according to our historians. Plus, your coat... It's pure white. Typically from this region, weres are descended from Timber wolves, with gray or brown coats. That's why I thought maybe you had Nordic, or at least northern ancestry."

Bellamy frowned. "Maybe it was presumptuous of me. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have sent you on a wild goose chase..."

"No, no," She said eagerly, clutching his shirt. "Don't apologize. Seriously, Bellamy, you've helped me so much."

He rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. "Giving you a confusing book isn't exactly helpful."

"I mean it," She said adamantly. 

He shook his head, their noses brushing. "I just wish I had more for you."

Clarke paused, her mind turning. "So you - you've never seen any other white wolves?"

His frown returned. "No, I mean, I've never, but they exist. Or did, at least. The Azgeda and other packs of the Yukon territory haven't been seen in... decades. There's almost no documentation on them; some historians even question if the pack existed, or if they were the stories of humans from First Nation tribes. If they did exist, they would've been connected to Nordic ancestry."

"Azgeda," Clarke echoed, testing the word on her tongue as if it would magically make her remember her entire ancestral history. "I guess that means I'm not German, then." She laughed; her father was an avid historian and always proud of their German heritage. 

"No, probably not," Bellamy agreed with a smile. "Are your parents -" He hesitated. "What was it like, growing up with humans?"

"Not as bad as you're probably imagining," She said. Her childhood had been perfectly normal, despite everything _abnormal_ about her. She told him bits and pieces; how her mother had wanted a baby, how they had tried for years until the doctor told them with finality they should not get their hopes up. He already knew when Clarke showed up, but she told him more. Her mother, ecstatic, and her father, horrified, at the idea of a tiny baby left in the cold on their doorstep. She had been spoiled; Abby Griffin wanted to give her miracle baby everything she could ever need and then some. 

Clarke had excelled at sports, thanks to her speed, her extra strength, the sheer inhuman durability of her body. Her father came to every game, took her and picked her up from every practice. Her mother, overprotective as she was, only came to a few, and stopped entirely after 12-year-old Clarke collided with another girl on the soccer field and got tangled up so badly an ambulance was called. The other girl's leg broke in three places, bone nearly breaking through skin. Clarke had walked away completely unscratched.

When she was in high school, after she'd began to come to terms with her otherness, Clarke quit sports. She had an unfair advantage over her teammates and her opponents, and teenage angst told her she wasn't even truly a part of their team; she'd never be like the rest of the girls.

"Did you ever consider telling them?" Bellamy asked after she'd recounted the time her mother had caught her trying to leave the house in only a bathrobe in the middle of December (she had been tired of shredding clothes during the shift). 

"Of course," Clarke admitted. "But I couldn't. How do you even react to that as a parent?"

"Do you think they wouldn't believe you?"

"Well, that," She said, "And... they've done so much for me. They've never made me feel anything less than the best daughter they could have asked for. How do I tell them I'm a freak?"

"You're  _not_ a freak," He said sternly. "I hate that word. What we are might be different, but it's perfectly natural."

She bit back a smile at his defensiveness, "I know that,  _we_ know that, but every other non-wolf in the world _doesn't_ know, including my parents."

"Maybe some day," She said after a beat of silence. 

"Any other questions about my human life?"

He smiled down at her, brushing a hand gently across her cheek. His face grew serious, nervous even as he stroked her hair. "I do want to ask you..."

Her brow wrinkled at his hesitation. "Ask me what?"

He inhaled sharply, "... If you wanted to come to my sister's engagement party. With me."

Clarke couldn't fight off a grin. Bellamy Blake was  _never_ nervous; he was all confidence, all charm, all alpha all the time. She was constantly the one feeling vulnerable and nervous around him, never sure how to proceed. This was a welcome change.

"Like as your date?"

He smiled again, albeit a bit anxiously. "Yeah, as my date. I just figure, you should meet my family, the pack. You should get to be around other wolves. The whole thing is gonna be small, intimate, but if it's too much too fast I get it. But my mom, she could maybe answer some questions for you, and Octavia, she's a little much but she'd be thrilled to meet you. If you want -"

"Bellamy," She said, pressing her thumb against his lower lip. He exhaled, a little breathless from his rambling, and she kissed him. "I'd love to go."

"Yeah?" He replied, flashing her favorite 100-watt smile.

"Yeah," She smirked. "You made a pretty convincing argument."

"Shut up," He laughed, pulling her close and peppering kisses all across her face until she shrieked with laughter.

She caught his lower lip between her teeth, sucking gently. His arms slid around her waist and pulled her flush against him as he returned her kiss, seeking her tongue with his own. His knee slid between her thighs, and she gasped, hot against his cheek as he moved to suck what would surely be hickeys by morning on her neck. She rolled them so that she was straddling his waist, and he gripped her hips so tightly she thought he might leave bruises.

Clarke could feel him hard against her, straining through his jeans, and she ground her hips down against him. He growled against her neck, a warning, so she repeated the motion and he groaned, "Princess... You're killing me."

"We can fix that," She said softly, peering up at him through her lashes. She moved to slide a hand under his waistband and his hands seized her wrists.

"Clarke," Bellamy said firmly, his voice strained.

"What?" She huffed in annoyance.

"We should slow down," He said gently.

"You don't want to...?" She asked, and trailed off, feeling dumb for even asking.

"Of course I do, more than anything," His voice was earnest, his expression soft.

"Okay, so...." She tugged against his grip to move for his pants again. He stopped her.

"So... I don't want you to think I'm just here for sex and your beautiful architectural skills."

If she was less frustrated, she might have laughed. Given the current circumstances, she leveled him with a glare. "I'm a big girl. I can handle myself, if that's what you're worried about."

He groaned, this time out of irritation. "That's not my point," He smiled, eyes gleaming. "This thing between us... Clarke, I've spent hours thinking about what I want to do to you, to your  _body,_ but I don't want to rush it."

She flushed, her annoyance completely dissipating. Of course, Bellamy Blake knew all the right things to make her toes curl  _and_ her heart flutter at the same time. 

He pulled her down into a kiss, releasing her hands and sliding his own around her waist. In one smooth motion, he rolled them, caging her in with his forearms so that his weight didn't crush her. His mouth never left hers, and his hips pressed firmly into the space between her legs.

"Not fair," She murmured against his lips. She was dizzy with the smell and feel of him.

"All's fair," He said, and moved south. She squirmed as he rucked her t-shirt up, his lips ghosting across her stomach until he reached the waistband of her pants. He looked up at her, holding her gaze as he pressed his mouth where it counted, and Clarke had never hated fabric so much in her life.

"Is this okay?" He asked as his fingers toyed with the waistband of her yoga pants.

"Yes," She choked out, not caring how desperate she sounded.

He laughed, the low rumble sending vibrations up and down the insides of her thighs. He was painfully slow removing her pants, and then her underwear, his touch delicate, almost ceremonial, like he was savoring every second. When she finally kicked her underwear off, he reached under her thighs and tugged her closer, pulling her flat on her back and her legs over his shoulders. 

"Don't run off again," She managed to joke, even though her brain was short-circuiting and her heart felt like it was going to burst through her chest.

He grinned, clearly remembering the last time they'd been in a similar position. "I've wanted to do this since the day I met you. I've got nothing but time."

He lowered his head, exhaled softly, his breath warm against her exposed sex. He kissed the inside of her left thigh, her pelvic bone, her right thigh, behind her knee, and basically everywhere except where she wanted him to. When she rolled her hips, he tightened his grip on her legs, his fingers pressing hard into the underside of her thighs. 

When he finally pressed his mouth to her clit, she thought she was going to faint. She gasped as he flicked featherlight touches with his tongue, soft, teasing, and then, he licked a long, rough stripe from her opening back up to her most sensitive spot. 

"Bellamy," She gasped as he sucked on her clit, her hips snapping forward when he flicked his tongue again. He took his time, working her up until she felt like she was going to explode if she didn't come in the next thirty seconds. She was  _right there_ , panting and writhing against Bellamy's mouth, bunching the sheets in her hands, but he pulled away at the last second. She whined and he laughed. He resumed his ministrations, and again, he took her right to the edge and then pulled back. It became a pattern, a horrible, toe-curling pattern. After the fourth or fifth time (she lost count), she wanted to murder him.

"Bellamy,  _please._ "

"Please what?" He said against her clit, staring up at her innocently through his lashes.

"I need... I want to..."

"What do you need?"

She _hated_ him. "I need to come,  _please."_

"Since you asked so nicely," He sounded so smug, and she almost called him on it, but then his hand left her thigh, and he slipped two fingers inside her. She moaned, her hands moving to the back of his head, gripping his curls tightly. One, two, three presses of his tongue against her clit and his fingers moving in her was all it took to send her over the edge. He didn't let up as she rode the waves of her orgasm, one hand still gripping her leg, holding on tight as her thighs tightened around his head.

Finally, finally, she collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air as if she'd been drowning. She shuddered as Bellamy pressed gentle kisses to her now hypersensitive clit. He untangled himself from her legs and moved up the bed to lay next to her.

"Hi," He said, still sounding smug. Despite his smug tone, he looked as wrecked as she felt. His cheeks were flushed and his curls were a mess from where she'd gripped them tightly. His expression was awestruck. "Was that okay?"

" _Okay_?" She laughed breathlessly. "That was..." She couldn't even find the  _words._ Clarke had experienced some great sex in her life, and some great head. But with Bellamy... he knew all the right buttons to press, without ever having pressed them before. It was inexplicable.

"So a little better than okay?" Bellamy clarified, smiling.

"Don't gloat," She said, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

His smile softened. "As long as you're satisfied. If not, I'd happily do it again."

She blushed. "Goodnight, Bellamy."

He pulled her around her waist so that he was spooning her, her back was flush against his front, and dragged the covers over them. He planted a kiss on the back of her neck and pressed his nose there, sighing deeply. "Goodnight, Princess," He whispered.

She took his hand that rested against her stomach and wove their fingers together, listening to his breathing even out as sleep overcame him. Her chest felt warm and tight, and she finally admitted to herself what her wolf had known for a weeks: she was so, so gone for Bellamy Blake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked my attempt at writing a little canoodling!!! Please leave a comment or a kudos if you want to inflate my ego or make me cry (most likely will do both).
> 
> Official theme song for this chapter is Take Me to Church by Hozier. It is so sexy and gritty and I love the idea of worshipping!Bellamy


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